The Curious Moves
by Genis Aurion
Summary: THE EDITED VERSION. In which Stan becomes jealous of Kenny’s bold advances.
1. You're gay in a very homphobic manner

_Featuring the condensed, slightly proofread version of **The Curious Moves**!  
_

**The Curious Moves  
**In which Stan becomes jealous of Kenny's bold advances.  
A KyleKenny, StanKyle fanfic.  
_Written by Zakuyoe_

1: You're gay in a very homophobic manner  


Friday afternoon. There couldn't possibly be anything more relieving for Stanley Marsh as he opened his locker door. There would be no school for a whole two days, which would strike as haven for any high school student who hated the schooling system. That especially held true for the raven-haired boy, his lips already twisted into an excited smile, blue eyes holding a mysterious glint behind them, and his mind in the mood of doing anything other than the piles of homework he had been assigned.

Of course, Stan would ignore such piles, which left the weekend to be quite the enjoyable one. But where to start?—that had been the only question of uncertainty in his mind as he absentmindedly exchanged books at his locker. Somewhere nearby the school a bowling alley had opened up, and so heading there didn't seem all that bad of an idea. Or, perhaps, he could check out the super-sweet discount Shakey's Pizza held every Friday (two personal pan pizzas for half the price of one), but doing that would require him being decently hungry.

Whatever he ended up doing, Stan knew he'd probably be spending that Friday night with his best friend, Kyle Broflovski.

"Hey, Stan," the aforementioned boy had said from behind, completely taking the boy by surprise. Kyle examined the taller boy quickly with his emerald eyes, running a hand through his thick, curly, crimson hair before opening his mouth to speak once more. "You can take me home today, right?"

"Yep," had been the response, coming not too long after the slamming of a locker. "I told you that this morning, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but—"

"So why'd you have to ask again?" Stan smiled as Kyle swayed his head from side to side. Typical Stan to say something like that, but by then Kyle had been quite used to it.

"Dunno. Just making sure, I guess." Stan stood up from his crouching position (for someone Stan's height bottom lockers shouldn't even have been an option) and patted his Jewish friend lightly on the back. "Hey Kyle, might you be interested in going somewhere later today?"

"Huh?"

"You know," rephrased Stan, laughing as he shook his head. "Like, going… somewhere… after school...?"

"Sure?" Kyle responded, though it most definitely sounded more of a question than an answer to one. "My parents are out of town, and I think Ike's staying over at Fillmore's. I could probably come with you guys."

"Then I'll call Cartman and Kenny and see if they're up for anything," said Stan, whipping out his cell phone. The news Kyle had given him shouldn't have hit anything funny in his mind, being as he was already expecting Kyle to sleep over at his house all that weekend. Still, hearing the lack of his parents at his house only ran dirty thoughts through his mind, thoughts that would not soon disappear when Kenny's voice rang in his ears from the phone.

"Hey Stan, great to see you've finally taken up my offer!"

Stan's first instinct had been to peel the cell phone from his ears, just to make sure if he had gotten the number dialed right. Once he found out it really had been Kenny on the other end he placed it back on his ear and spoke. "What offer?"

"You don't remember?" Kenny said with a laugh. "I gave a slip of paper to Kyle the other day with my number. It kinda said how if you ever wanted to try phone sex sometime to dial the number. Seems like you're interested?" Stan glared at Kyle, who only shrugged in the midst of his hysterical laughter; Kenny was talking way too loud for his own good.

"In all seriousness," Stan said, clearing his throat, "do you wanna go somewhere with Kyle and I tonight? We were planning to go hang out and stuff…."

"You mean a threesome?" Kenny asked almost innocently. Or rather, innocently-sounding, because Stan knew well the blonde boy was being anything but that.

"No, goddamnit," Stan sputtered into his phone, turning a deep shade of red. "In a second I'm gonna call Cartman—"

"Foursome, then?" interrupted Kenny, only causing Stan to growl once more.

"Just… bah, Kenny!—you seriously think too much about sex. It's just gonna be the four of us, dude. You know, like going to the bowling alley, as _friends_." Stan shot a piercing glance at the boy next to him, who was practically breaking down in a fit of laughter; whether or not he was laughing at Kenny's perverseness or Stan's irritation Stan wasn't sure, but what had been clear was that Stan was quite done with putting up with Kenny on a phone. "So, you're coming?"

"Sure," said Kenny. "I'll just buy some condoms and I'll meet you there."

"Fucking asshole," Stan muttered before shutting the line on the blonde. He remained silent for several seconds, wordlessly insisting that the Jewish boy stop laughing, but it had taken much longer than that before he had truly stopped.

"You know," said Kyle, "you'd think Kenny would already have condoms…."

"Don't fucking start with me," Stan snapped, blue eyes barely visible in his snake-like glare. "I really hope Cartman won't be anything like that."

**XX**

It wasn't that Stan disliked Kenny's humor. In a way, at times, he did find Kenny's sexual innuendos to be quite entertaining, especially when they were quite original and not merely being reused once more. Rather, he only disliked them for two reasons:

1 – Kenny would often reference one of the boys to his sexual innuendos, and though he frequented Kyle, whenever Stan was the subject of the perverseness he felt quite uncomfortable. And,

2 – Stan, in an oh-so-non-gay way, had a small crush on Kyle, and tended to become quite jealous whenever Kenny seemed to be hitting on the object of his desire, who also happened to be his best friend.

**XX**

At ten o' clock that evening the four boys entered the newly-opened bowling alley. First Cartman had entered, barely fitting through the sliding doors as he proudly walked in with his hands clasped together; and following him had been the three others, walking side by side with ample room. At the counter ahead of them was a tall woman wearing some sort of striped, red and white uniform, and she smiled politely as the four approached.

"One lane's fine," said Stan, reaching into his back pocket for a wallet. "And I think we'll need four pairs of shoes, too."

"Three," corrected Cartman, waving a leather bag in front of his face. "I've got mine custom-made."

"Not that any of the rentals would fit you anyway," muttered Kyle, earning a yelp of protest from the fatter boy.

"Twelfth lane," the woman said monotonously, completely ignoring the feuds between the boys. "Buzz or come by if you need assistance."

"Thanks." Not long afterward the four found themselves at their given lane, and as three boys began placing their shoes on Cartman began typing names into the system.

"What do we have over mynah…?" mused Cartman, punching in letters. "Cartman… Stan… Poor boy… and Jew boy…. Yep, that looks right."

"Fuck you, Cartman!" two boys uttered at the same time.

"Fine, fine, I'll change it," said Cartman. Within seconds four more-proper names displayed themselves upon the screen above them, and though Kyle wasn't quite satisfied with the name "Kahl" he let it go nonetheless.

"We need bowling balls," Kenny muttered. "I'll be back."

"I don't!" Cartman exclaimed, walking up toward the lanes (since, obviously, he had entered his own name first). "I got meh own ball!"

"Custom-made?" Kyle asked curiously.

"How'd you know?"

"You wouldn't be able to play otherwise," Kyle retorted. "Your fat fingers wouldn't fit in the damn holes."

"Ai, Jewboy!" but Kyle merely left after Kenny, leaving the pudgy boy hanging in his own statement. "Stan, don't you—"

"Just bowl the damn ball," Stan replied lazily. Cartman paused for several moments, giving the boy a questioning glance, but eventually he found himself bowling his two turns—both gutters, of course. He whined, as Stan had quite expected, and as he sat back down he looked once more at Stan.

"It's your turn, Stan," Cartman reminded him, but Stan only nodded.

"I'm waiting for Kyle to come back," said Stan. "I'm gonna borrow his ball." Yet a few seconds passed, then minutes, and soon Stan had been forced to use Cartman's ball. The significantly larger holes had probably caused him to earn a score he didn't want, but the raven-haired boy didn't quite think about that as he looked around for Kyle. "Where the hell is he?"

"Where's who?—Kenneh? I think he's fuckin' Kahl right about now."

"No, Kyle," said Stan bitterly.

"Oh, Kahl!" replied Cartman. "I dunno he's probably _gettin'_ fucked right about now." Stan growled something nasty as he turned his head to the display screen above them. Cartman hadn't gotten any points, Stan noted, which at least gave him a seven point lead….

"My turn now?" asked a familiar voice, and Stan almost strained his neck turning his head to the source of the voice.

"About fucking time," Stan spat. "Where the hell did the two of you go?"

"Kyle had to go," informed Kenny. "Like, go pee. But after that we went into one of the stalls and—"

"Shut the fuck up," snapped the raven-haired boy.

"Jealous?" asked Kenny, smirking. "If you wanted a threesome you could've told us."

"Fucking fags," muttered Cartman somewhere in the distance. "I don't wanna hear about your poor boy and Jew Stanwiches, thanks."

"We didn't really do that stall thing," Kyle said to Stan with a smug smile, ignoring Cartman's crude comment. "Though I _did_ have to pee."

"Whatever," Stan said. "Just bowl already." But before Kenny could let go of his bowling ball the lights had all dimmed, making it impossible for Kenny to even have his turn. 

"It's that time!" boomed a female voice, seemingly the voice of the woman at the front counter. "It's time for Extreme Bowling!"

"Extreme…?" Stan asked himself, but before he could properly ask disco lights blinded the scene, techno-like music blaring over the speakers. Somewhere away from him Kenny gave a cheer, having had a strike, and immediately returned to the four.

"Strike, baby!" exclaimed Kenny, though not many could hear him. Yet even though he could barely hear Kenny's cheer, he _did_ hear what the blonde boy had whispered into Kyle's ear before letting him take his turn. Sometimes, Stan wondered how Kyle even put up with remarks like that.

For the remainder of the night Stan did his very best to keep a mental picture of peaceful skies and crashing waterfalls in his mind. Or anything really, anything except the picture of Kenny fucking his best friend on the bowling lanes, as the blonde had so generously suggested moments before.

**XX**

"Stick the goddamn thing in and start already!" Kenny exclaimed, mouth slightly open in anticipation.

Stan crossed his arms across his chest and shook his head vigorously. "No way in hell I'm gonna do that, dude."

"But Stan!" the boy whined, glancing around him. "The others are gonna come back soon! We should do it while no one's around!"

"No," replied Stan. "I'm not gonna start the car and leave without them." Kenny pouted, sinking into his seat as he glanced back at the bowling alley's entrance. Where were the other two boys?—they were all almost out the building when Cartman declared the sudden urge to pee, and somehow Kyle had gone missing in the process….

"They're taking too long," said Kenny, though Stan was sure he probably could've figured that out on his own. "Poor Kyle… Cartman's probably raping him right about now."

"Why the hell would you say something like that?" asked Stan in disbelief. Then, on a completely different note, he mused, "Though I do wonder where Kyle went off to…."

The two of them spent their next moments in silence, anxiously waiting for the remainder of their party to reach the car. Indeed Stan did have some sort of curfew in terms of driving, and even though in their small town of South Park it was seldom enforced Stan still wanted to leave as quickly as they could. Yet with Kyle mysteriously gone and with Cartman still out on his super-long pee-break, Stan wasn't so sure how long it would be until they were finally able to go home.

"There they are!" exclaimed Kenny, giving Stan the unexpected answer to his musings. Sure enough, the slightly smaller Jewish boy (in height, of course) was walking quite briskly toward Stan's car, followed after by a much slower moving Cartman. Much not to Stan's surprise the two looked anything but suspicious, even though Cartman's pee break was a tad too long for him to have actually done just that…. In the end, Stan had decided, thinking about things like that too much was a bad thing, especially this late at night; and with his tapping on the wheel he let the issue go.

"Sorry about that," said Kyle, clearing his throat as he took the passenger seat.

"It's cool, dude," said Stan, twisting the key in the ignition. "Shall we go, then?" With a slight rumble and the car was off, making quite the short journey to each of their houses. Admittedly, aside from Kenny's constant perverse comments throughout the outing, going bowling that night had been rather fun and would no doubt be an option once more for a future lieu.

First to be dropped off was Cartman, who happened to live closest to the alley. They all politely said their farewells to him as he stepped out of the car, though once they were safe out of his earshot they snickered at how much lighter the car had significantly felt.

Next was Kenny, who lived in somewhat of a ghetto. Not to say he was poor (though he was), but the area around him was quite different than how the rest of South Park looked, not to mention the state and condition of his… house. Normally he would be dropped off last, considering his house was farther away from the other three's houses; but that night Kyle was staying over at Stan's house.

"See you guys on Monday?" asked Kenny as he stepped out of the car. "Well, except for Kyle…"

Kyle chuckled slightly at the remark; Stan chose to remain silent.

"Later, Ken," muttered Kyle from the passenger seat, and with that Stan drove away from the area—aggressively. Quite noticeably, too; but it was only when Stan made a turn to his street too quickly did Kyle actually mention anything about it. "That was… most unlike you, dude. Anger problems?"

Stan had no intention of responding.

**XX**

Stan awoke in the middle of the night with a warm sensation around his stomach. He knew immediately what it was, especially since there would really be only one possibility; there was only one other thing—person—boy—sleeping next to him to begin with. Yet the raven-haired boy spent a good five minutes (though, in the nighttime it was quite hard to actually determine how much time's _really_ passed) trying to figure out if he should actually do something about it.

In the end, though, Stan let it pass. The warm hand around his waist felt quite nice, anyway.

**XX**

That Saturday morning Stan awoke to an empty bed, not to mention the piercingly bright sunlight through the windows and the unpleasant sounds of an alarm he'd forgotten to switch off.

"Where'd Kyle go?" Stan muttered aloud, but the faint sounds of running water seemed to answer his question. "Kyle wakes up early, man…." Shielding his eyes he did his best to wiggle his way out of the bed and into his pants, exchanging his white shirt for a more proper one. When he was finished changing he left the room and went downstairs.

"Good morning, Stan," said a voice Stan would've least expected to hear.

"What, you aren't gonna punch my guts out?" Stan asked, quite surprised as he winced slightly in case his rather violent sister changed her mind. "Those sessions really helping you?"

Shelley only glared at her brother quite threateningly, gulping down a large serving of sibling-anger before getting herself to speak. "Those sessions are the _only_ reason I'm being nice to you, turd. Otherwise your head would be creamed"—Shelley pounded her fist into her open hand as a demonstration—"into that wall."

Stan didn't even bother turning to see what wall she was referring to.

"I told your friend Kyle he could take a shower if he needed one," continued Shelley in a much more relaxed voice. "But seriously, the two of you are such homos."

"I'm not gay!" Stan exclaimed a little too quickly. "What makes you say that?"

"Well," Shelley began, even pulling out her fingers to count—and by the time she was finished her list Stan very much wanted to bury his head in a bucket of sand.

1 – No two guys slept in the same room at such an old age unless they were sleeping in the same dorm.  
2 – No two guys would ever sleep in the same bed—the floor was a much better option for the odd one out.  
3 – No two guys slept with only one pillow on the bed.  
4 – No two guys slept under the same blanket.  
5 – No two guys slept while being anywhere close to each other  
6 – No guy buried his face in another guy's neck, in or out of bed.  
7 – No two guys even remotely spooned each other in the rare case of sleeping together.

And that list went on. Shelley listed more justifications of her homosexual accusation, and with each accusation Stan found himself turning redder and redder. Naturally, being the sadistic sister she was, Shelley only smirked wider with each shade Stan turned, and it wouldn't be long before an entirely new name would have to be given to the color Stan's face truly was.

Although, as Shelley spat out her twenty-seventh accusation Stan's mind was still stuck on the sixth one. Had Kyle… no, of course not.

"Boyfriend's here," Shelley said quickly, waving some sort of a girly-yet-still-Shelley-like goodbye before leaving. But it wasn't her boyfriend she had been returning to.

"Hey, dude."

"He's _not_ my boyfriend!" Stan exclaimed as she shut the door behind him. Though, if it was Kyle she was referring to, where was she going…?

"I know I'm not, dude," Kyle muttered, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Though I wasn't sure if you knew that or not." Eyeing the raven-haired boy's brow-raised expression carefully Kyle chose to explain. "The way you were sleeping last night, dude. You were pressing yourself up all on me, dude!"

"Excuse me?" Stan said, taken aback. "It was _you_ that had your arm around my stomach last night!"

"And that explains how you were practically kissing my neck this morning?" Kyle said with a laugh, finding Stan's expression to be quite priceless. "Not that I care really, since sleeping in the same bed kinda called for this to happen. But dude, seriously…."

"I didn't mean to do any of that!" Stan said, turning away. So those twenty-seven things Shelley had described were focused specifically at _him_? "I'm not gay dude, I swear."

"I know," Kyle replied. "You yelled it out for the whole world to hear while I was in the shower." He watched Stan as he took a seat in front of him at the table, his face quite blown away. "Though really, dude, I've been noticing a lot about you lately…."

Stan laughed mockingly. "Ha, ha, very funny, dude."

"No, seriously!" Kyle exclaimed. "Like last night with Kenny you tensed up and stuff…."

"So?"

"So… it's like every time Kenny makes a sexual innuendo toward a guy you freak out." Stan sighed; how perceptive the Jewish boy was… though now Stan was quite afraid he'd gone as far as figuring him out…. "You aren't… homo—"

"I'm not!" Stan interjected, face turning red. "Really, I'm not!"

"Dude, _chill out_," said Kyle with a bemused expression. "I wasn't calling you gay or anything like that."

"You… weren't…?"

"No, dude. I was gonna say if you were homophobic." In an instant Stan found himself laughing at his hastiness and his idiocy, slamming his hand on the table once while shaking his head.

"No… 'Course not, dude…." Yet the lightheartedness in his voice and the laughter was quick to die out; it wouldn't be long, Stan knew, before Kyle would find out exactly how he really was anything _except_ that.

**XX**

As Stan eventually found out, Shelley had no such boyfriend to go outside with. Yet she still insisted she had gone to buy a porno DVD to watch with her ever-so-existent boyfriend.

Stan thought of ripping on her for it, especially since she was refraining from violence; but he knew it'd only get him in the back later.


	2. As if I'd really mourn over your death

2: As if I'd really mourn over your death 

"How're you having so much trouble with that?" Kenny exclaimed, stepping forward to the crouching Stan.

Stan turned red. "No, Ken, I can take care of it myself, really…!"

"Twist right, twist left, twist right, and then jack it up!" said Kenny excitedly, counting the steps off his fingers as if he had done it many times before. "Come on, Stan, you do it every day!"

"I'm just having trouble this time," Stan grumbled, pushing Kenny off as he tried to do it himself. "No, Kenny!"

"Aw," muttered the blonde, stepping back. "Fine, one time. If you can't do it then I'm moving in for the kill."

"Deal," said Stan with a resolved face. He'd have to get it this time, the raven-haired boy knew, if he wanted to avoid Kenny coming anywhere near it…. With a set face Stan raised his hand and curled his finger around the object, twisting it in the directions previously mentioned by Kenny; and with one final thrust Stan pushed upward.

"Aw, damnit," Kenny muttered, sighing in disappointment at the sight of Stan's (finally) open locker. With a relieved smile Stan did his normal book exchange, cursing under his breath at the load of books he needed to carry for his morning classes.

"All my core classes in the morning," Stan mumbled with a sigh, slamming shut with his foot. "Precalculus, US History, and Physics…. What genius gave me that schedule?"

Kenny shrugged. "I dunno, dude. You're a very unlucky guy, I guess."

"Whatever, Ken." As a large group of flocking girls swarmed by them in the opposite direction Stan raised an eyebrow. "Err, Kenny? Why exactly were you waiting for me at my locker, anyway?"

"Just because," the boy replied, shrugging. "Why?"

"You never meet me there," said Stan. "Our first classes are opposite ends of the school."

"I decided to leave early," Kenny explained. "I didn't know what else to do so I came and found you."

"Are you sure you don't just want me to pick you up?" Stan offered, shoving his hands in his pockets while absentmindedly fiddling with his keys. "It's not that much trouble for me, dude."

"That'd be awesome!" exclaimed Kenny, and before Stan even realized it he became victim to a… massive hug.

"Aw, aww!—Kenny!"

"Thanks, dude!" Kenny exclaimed once more, digging himself deeper into the boy. "Oh man, my tired feet are gonna be so fuckin' happy…!"

"Don't get too excited now," said Stan. "You still gotta cope with me taking Kyle home—and Cartman too, sometimes."

"Fine," said Kenny, smirking. "Can I at least claim the backseat—with Kyle?"

Stan didn't respond.

**XX **

Stan eventually got over having his three morning classes, and although he was quite sure he failed at least one of his two tests he had taken that day, he was still glad that his toughest classes were now over. However, even if he was glad for such a thing like that, he would definitely not be happy in that he wouldn't see Kyle in any of his remaining classes of that day.

Except lunch, of course.

But still, the thought alone was quite depressing. And what angered him even more was that Kenny had him in two classes after lunch—_two_. That left so much room for the Jewish boy to receive those innuendos Kenny kept conjuring….

Of course, even Stan knew Kyle didn't seem to mind… but why?

As he made his way toward the cafeteria, though, he couldn't help but to wonder how much he hated their lunch period. Sure, Stan loved lunchtime. But he also hated it for several reasons.

1 – Kyle was always busy doing something—usually homework. And,  
2 – Kenny would usually spend the entire time hitting on the boy.

That Monday was a prime example of the latter.

"You've got a long wiener over there!" Kenny exclaimed, tapping Kyle's lunch tray several times. "Mind if I take a—"

"No," said Kyle quickly before Kenny could finish. Then, in an attempt to stump Kenny in his perverseness Kyle had added, "You want a sip outta my soda, though?"

Kenny smirked. "If you have a straw, I'll do it." From across the table a slightly annoyed shook his head, not even bothering to look up as he took a bite out of his own hot dog. Quite frankly it happened no matter what kind of food the cafeteria was serving; after hearing "You could stick that in further, you know" while eating a banana, "Slurping those noodles is a good habit to have, dude" while eating spaghetti, and "Screw that; I wanna be the meat in _your_ buns!" while having hamburgers, Stan was quite ready to hear the day Kenny _couldn't_ make a perverted joke out of something they were eating.

Stan was definitely used to it by now.  
But that didn't mean he wasn't about ready to accept it, yet.

"Dude, sick," Cartman and Stan both said at the same time, though only Cartman actually meant it.

Only Cartman continued after that. "Kenneh you're such a fag. A poor fag, geez Kenneh, couldn't be anything else, could you?"

"Drop it," said Kyle, giving the boy quite the angry stare—then again, he gave that stare to everything the pudgy boy said. "Kenny's just being Kenny. That's all."

"Seriously though," Stan said in a much quieter voice, contrasting greatly to Cartman's thunderous accusations. "Don't you ever feel… you know, uncomfortable when he says stuff like that?"

"Of course he doesn't!" Kenny exclaimed, hitting Kyle playfully in the side. "He doesn't mind it 'coz he _likes_ it!"

"Hey," murmured Kyle, laughing slightly. Then, turning to Stan and giving him a reassuring glance, he added; "I don't mind, Stan, but that's not the reason why."

"Why then?" challenged Stan, eyes narrowly slit in Kenny's direction.

Kyle laughed. "Well, he's—"

"Goddamnit, guys, you're ALL fags!" Cartman roared, up to the point where the majority of the students were glancing in their direction. "Screw you guys; I'm goin' home!" And with that he left, leaving the three remaining boys in an awkward situation.

Kyle bit his lip and cursed under his breath in Hebrew, the only comprehensible word being "Cartman."  
Stan pinched the bridge of his arm and shook his head, banging it against the metal table not long afterward.  
Kenny merely smirked and asked in a rather confident voice, "Hey, Kyle, can I have that wiener dog, now?"

**XX **

Stan gave Kenny the backseat, as the blonde had so requested earlier that day.  
Obviously, though, he made sure Kyle was in the passenger's seat and nowhere near Kenny.

**XX **

"So you're bringing Kenny home now?" Kyle asked once they had dropped the blonde off at his house. "That's pretty nice of you, dude."

"He was walking to school, Kyle," muttered Stan. "I couldn't possibly imagine having to walk to and from school every day, let alone coming from Kenny's house."

"So it's kinda outta pity then?" Kyle asked. "I see…."

"Well, not really, dude," Stan said. "I'm just being a good friend."

"Right," said Kyle, laughing. "Acting the role of the good guy, as always?"

"Well, I _am_ the good guy. I don't have to act it, dude." The two laughed quietly between themselves as Stan pulled into Kyle's driveway, much slower and more gently than he had done the previous Friday. "Well, we're here."

"We are," said Kyle, biting his lip. "Hey, Stan…?"

"Yeah?" asked Stan.

"Thanks for the ride, dude."

"No problem," said Stan, shooting his arm lower to shift the car into reverse.

Kyle kept his door open. "Oh, and Stan…?"

"Yeah …?"

"Do you mind if I call you later tonight?" the boy asked, and Stan couldn't help but to smile at his shyness.

"Of course," Stan replied. "Any particular reason why?"

"Well I wanted to ask you something about how… but whatever, I'll tell you more about it later, cool?" but before Stan could respond he shut the door and hurried to his front door. Stan remained still in the driveway as he watched the Jewish boy hastily fiddling his pockets for the house key, gaze quite still at the door even minutes after Kyle disappeared into it.

After five minutes and a sigh and Stan finally left for home, but Stan couldn't help but to notice how shy and red Kyle had turned when asking to call him later. Was there…

Was there still hope for the raven-haired boy?

**XX**

With a slight sign of hesitation upon his face, with his arm extended and hands curled lightly around the long object, with his inner self deep in thought, as if trying to consider the overall effect of his actions, Stan growled in the back of his throat and relented to his internal desires, his hand pushing against the object, fingers taking a much firmer grasp on it and yanking it in a forceful upward direction; and his eyes relaxed at the sight now in front of him, the blues in his eyes falsely dropping the suspicion that the slender object would explode with even the slightest touch.

Within seconds Stan felt the need to gulp down the buildup in his throat.

"…Hey, dude!" said an unusually cheery voice, so unusual Stan found himself making sure he'd dialed the number into the phone right. He tightened his grip onto the telephone's receiver, wondering curiously in his head why he had used a land line to call his best friend; now he'd have to be confined to the small perimeter around him by the wall.

Then again, Kyle _did_ say he was going to call him later… and it being nine at night already, Stan had gotten the sudden urge to call his friend to see if he was still needed. But picking up the phone alone had been quite nerve-racking in itself, the fear of seeming intruding passing more than once through Stan's mind; would Kyle see him as being desperate to talk to him?

"Hello…?"

"Err, Kenny?" asked Stan, his normal demeanor coming back to him. "What're you doing at Kyle's house?—scratch that, why the hell are you answering Kyle's phone?"

"He's busy," Kenny replied simply. Then, to someone in the background, he added, "Hey Kyle, don't forget: quick and varying strokes!"

"I know how to do it, goddamnit Kenny!" the Jewish boy's voice echoes into the phone. "It's hard enough without you helping, dude! I mean, we'll never be done with you talking to Stan and not concentrating on your part."

Stan's eyes grew wide as Kenny made some sort of response, a response Stan didn't even want to hear. "What… the hell are you guys doing?"

"Making pizza," said Kenny quite quickly; with an excuse made so quickly Stan had no choice but to believe it. "Kyle's grating cheese but he's doing such a bad job at it."

"I see…" said Stan. "Hey, Kenny, do you think—?"

"—hey Kyle!" interjected Kenny, completely cutting Stan off. "Dude, lemme do this for you; I'm used to it anyway." Stan shut his eyes tightly, violently shaking his head in an attempt to shake off the bad visual of Kenny pumping his…. "All you gotta do is to squeeze it as hard as you can and get the stuff out of there. There should be enough to cover—"

"Kenny!" Stan screamed, shocking Kenny, Kyle, and himself—and even his half-sober father. "Please, dude… just lemme talk to Kyle."

He heard a small noise on the other end, followed closely by a more familiar and likeable voice. "Hey, dude."

"Finally," muttered Stan. After a small moment of silence Stan found himself at a loss of words. "You know, I have no idea why I called…."

"Amnesia?" suggested Kyle.

"I dunno… maybe if I talk it out I'll remember." Kyle muttered an incoherent agreement as he placed the cell phone on his shoulder in an attempt to try squeezing some sauce onto the pizza dough. "So why's Kenny at your house, anyway?"

"He kinda invited himself over, actually," said Kyle quietly. "He said something about wanting food, so I let him in. Apparently he found a stash of ready-to-go pizza dough… looks like I'll be having pizza for dinner."

"Is that Kosher?"

"Like the hell I care," Kyle replied rather smugly.

Stan laughed, but not long after doing so his face lit up. "Oh, I remember why I called now."

"Oh…?"

"You told me earlier today you wanted to call me," said Stan, frowning slightly. "I called to see if you still needed me or something."

"I did…?" Kyle asked slowly, his voice trailing off. "Oh man, I did, didn't I? Well, err… I kinda do need to ask you about something too, but since Kenny's around…."

"Kick him out?" Stan suggested.

Kyle shook his head, though Stan hadn't exactly been the person to see him do so. "I'll tell you about it in the morning. Before we meet the others up we can talk about…."

"I drive Kenny to school now, though."

"Dude, we'll work it out. But I really gotta go. Kenny's pulling me by my back pocket back to the kitchen, and you'd better believe me when I say it _isn't_ exactly the best feeling I've ever felt."

"Yeah, yeah, I don't need telling twice." And as an apologetic Kyle muttered a goodbye the phone gave an almost silent click, leaving Stan to the emptiness of the kitchen once more.

**XX**

He knew it was only a dream, yet he didn't want to remind himself.

God, he was worse than Kenny, sometimes.

In the eerie silence of the room there was a faint light, a light that somehow allured the raven-haired boy, his lips parting slightly in anticipation, his hands rubbing themselves together, all as if already knowing what he'd find on the other side of the bookshelves.

And of course, he somehow _did_ know what the library's furniture concealed, and he was quite happy at the sight he saw—a very provocatively dressed Kyle Broflovski, tight black dress shirt parted partially at the collar, buttons undone, arms hanging loosely, red curls disheveled more than already possible, and his legs suggestively open.

"Happy to see me?" asked Stan in his deepest yet cheesiest of voices.

Kyle nodded only slightly, his gaze set on his prey, the grip on the study table hardening. Indeed Stan wasted no time in assaulting the boy, moving himself for the kill, attacking the Jewish boy's neck with his eager lips and teeth, nibbling where he saw fit, his hands having lost conscious completely and subject only to their curiosity, making fleeting gestures to where they counted the most.

"You're so hot," muttered Kyle as he groaned and leaned into the boy's touch. He lifted a knee and began grinding into the boy, pushing the lifted knee to create more friction between the two. Dry humping, as someone might've called it, but for Stan it was just as good as the real thing, how they moved together, rocking in what would eventually be synchronized thrusts, hands becoming all the more curious to explore clothed regions.

After all, it was boring to like what you saw—it would be much more exciting to lust for what you _couldn't_ see.

"Oh, Stan, take me!" Kyle exclaimed at long last, shoving the raven-haired boy off him so he could remove the belt to his pants.

But Stan knew better. After all… he knew it was only a dream.

**XX**

Without a doubt Stan knew it was a dream, his assumptions based on two relatively valid reasons:

1 – Stan awoke to an empty bed alone, nowhere close to a library or a cleared desk removed of stray research books.  
2 – He awoke to a very damp bed that morning, and he didn't even need his sense of smell to realize it wasn't urine he had leaked onto the bed sheets.

Thankfully, laundry day was a Saturday.

The raven-haired boy proceeded in committing to his morning rituals, being careful in placing his sticky underwear in a place where it wouldn't ruin his other clothes. Incidentally he had received that pair of boxers from Kyle on his birthday three years ago (why his best friend gave underwear as a present to begin with, Stan really never knew), and he couldn't help but waste a good three minutes smiling at the substance on his boxers, _Kyle's_ given boxers.

Twisted and wrong, perhaps, but still satisfying.

He really _was_ worse than Kenny sometimes—but he'd never admit to it.

"I'm out, ma," Stan called out to no one in particular, locking the door behind him as he left his house. He'd be picking up Kenny first that morning, as it would save him gas money that way—not that he was paying for it, anyway.

"Thanks again for the ride, dude," had been Kenny's greeting when he entered the car.

"Good morning to you, too," said Stan quite lightly. "You're day go well with Kyle last night?"

The ignition roared as Stan pulled away, Kenny raising his voice slightly to respond. "Yeah, dude, the pizza was frickin' great. You can ask Ike; I'm a master-baker."

Stan shook his head, not even replying to one of Kenny's weaker comments. "I think you should really get a job, dude. You wouldn't have to keep going to people's houses for food."

"But that's no fun!" exclaimed Kenny. "I'm fine the way I am, dude." Stan shook his head again in disapproval. "Can I ask a favor from you?"

"Sure, Stan…. What kind of favor?"

"Don't make so many perverted jokes while you're getting rides from me?"

"If they're on—I mean, from—Kyle, I'll be too busy to make jokes, anyway."

"_Kenny_…."

"Fine, fine," Kenny muttered, shoving his pockets and looking at the carpeting of Stan's car. "Come on, dude, have a sense of humor. You know I don't mean half the stuff that come outta my mouth, anyway."

Stan pulled in front of Kyle's house and turned off the car. "The half directed at me, you mean? The way I see it, you probably mean everything when it comes to Kyle." Kenny laughed nervously, chuckling while muttering all sorts of excuses under his breath. "So I'm right, Ken?"

"Whatever, dude, you worry too much. Besides, it looks to me like you're jealous or something."

"I am _not_ jealous!" Stan exclaimed rather loudly, and perhaps a tad too quickly, too. "I just don't think it is right, especially since he feels uncomfortable when you say stuff like that."

"No, dude, he's perfectly okay with it."

"What makes you think that?" Stan challenged.

Kenny's reply was rather simple. "He's said it before, dude. Besides, my internal Kenny-sense tells me he's okay with it."

"And how reliable is your Kenny-sense?"

"Very," Kenny replied matter-of-factly. "In fact, the only time it's been wrong was when—"

"Okay, okay, I believe you," said Stan, glancing at the approaching Kyle. "Let's drop it, okay? No mentioning of this to Kyle, got it?"

A very devious smile appeared on Kenny's face, one that cried _I-know-why-all-of-this-is-bugging-you-now_. "Sure thing, Stan… though really, I think you should tell him."

As if Stan hadn't thought of _that_ before….

**XX**

"Hit me."

Kyle did exactly that.

"Aw dude, not literally," snapped Stan as he arrived at his ridiculous bottom locker once more. "Hit me with your question."

"That thing…?" Kyle asked, frowning. "Kay…. I guess lately I've felt different…."

"About?"

"That's the thing," said Kyle, biting his lip. "I'm not sure what it is. But what I do know is that when I'm around a specific person my stomach gets all queasy inside—and no, dude, it's not that uncomfortable feeling I'd get if I was disturbed by Kenny's remarks."

Stan gulped, his insides almost getting the better of him. Clearly, Kyle was gaining a crush on someone, and all the clues were pointing at himself... which was indeed a good thing.

"You like someone, then," Stan decided to point out, laughing. "Dude, it's normal for someone your age to like someone. Hell, I like someone too." ('Though,' Stan noted to himself, 'I don't really want you to find out anytime soon who that actually was.').

"Who?" asked the Jewish boy, slightly curious; "who do you like, Stan?"

"Not the point at the moment," reminded Stan, tapping his fingers against his locker's door. "Point is you should probably find out if the person you like likes you back."

"How'd I do that?" Kyle asked Stan, having only then realized he was just as dumb in this field as he was; in reality, Kenny was perhaps the only person who decently knew about the world of dating.

"Subtly, I guess," said Stan, shrugging. "Like, make suggestive hints and see how he responds. Or like, rub off on him and see if he notices."

"I guess," said Kyle. "Anyway, that's all I wanted to tell you. But dude, you _can't_ tell anyone about this!"

"'course not, man," said Stan. "Assuming that you don't tell anyone I like someone, too."

"Deal," said Kyle, turning away and hurrying off to the rest of the group. From his crouched position in front of his locker Stan couldn't help but smile at how much everything was suddenly pointing in his direction. It wouldn't be long now before he'd finally be able to admit his true feelings to the boy….

Now all Stan had to worry about was getting Kenny to stop hitting on his future boyfriend.

**XX**

"What?" a saddened Kenny exclaimed, stopping his twisting movements as Stan's head perked up. "You mean you don't love me anymore?"

"Nope," Kyle responded, shaking his head, leaning back into the embrace of his folded arms. "Never did."

Stan's eyes grew large with excitement as he continued to watch. "You mean you've been screwing me (around) this whole time?"

"Yep…." However, seeing the pouting face on the blonde's face called for an eventual relent, and it wasn't long before the Jewish boy was forced into a fit of laughter. "Aw, come on, Kenny, you know I didn't mean any of it.

Ah, the _wise _selection of words….  
"You didn't _mean_ it?" Kenny managed to gasp. "You mean to say all those times you were screwing (around) with me you didn't even mean it? All those times we kept thrusting toward a better—"

"Ken," Stan muttered, finally deciding to intervene between the two. "If you're having _that_ much trouble opening that soda bottle…."

"I'm fine, dude," assured Kenny, not turning to him as he spoke. "I'm in the middle of a crisis, here."

Kyle laughed. "What crisis, dude? Unless you're referring to your inability to open soda bottles…."

"Yeah, Kenneh," Cartman added, gulfing down his fifth plate of chocolate cheesecake. "Of all people I would've thought _you'd_ have no problems with something like that."

With an enraged face Kenny turned his face toward the bottle, intentions clearly on opening the damned bottle. Indeed he had the skills (so he claimed), but somehow they were proving him otherwise….

"If you open it on your next try I'll love you again?" offered Kyle, smirking as he spoke. Stan bit his lip as he observed Kenny's reaction, sighing internally at Kenny's newly-found motivation. Somehow Stan had come to the conclusion that Kyle knew of Kenny's preference (in terms of where his innuendos were aimed at), and whether he used it to his advantage or whether he actually accepted it… Stan only wished it were the former.

After all, hadn't it been obvious earlier that day that Kyle liked Stan?—the raven-haired boy certainly thought so.

Indeed the bottle did open, but as Kenny smiled in his triumph a great deal of fizz spurred into his face.

Cartman chuckled smugly, and his following response caused the rest of the table (except Kenny) to gag at the thought.  
"Of all people, Kenneh," began Cartman. "Of all people I would've thought _you'd_ have no problems with something like that, either."

**XX**

That day the four decided to embark on an outing once more.

"Bowling alley!"  
"Shakey's Pizza!"  
"Stark's Pond!"  
"Tom's Rhinoplasty!"  
and as they all tried sorting out the masses of voices, no one was really curious in finding out who offered the last suggestion.

"Dude, we just went to the bowling alley!"

"And it's too early for pizza."

"So," said Stan, clearing his throat. "It's either Stark's Pond or Tom's Rhinoplasty, then." The majority of the group snickered as the latter was said, and in a way the leading boy couldn't help but to join them in due time, too. "So without even taking a vote I assume we're going to Stark's Pond."

"No…" whined Kenny, folding his arms, "…I'd rather go to that… Tom's… place."

"What the heck, dude?" Kyle exclaimed, his mouth agape in surprise. "What the hell could you possibly do there?"

"You," was his oh-so-surprising response. "But in all seriousness it's much safer than anything we could possibly do at the pond."

"But definitely not as fun," said Stan, stepping forward. "Come on, dude. What's not to love about ice skating?"

"Hey guys," commented Cartman, "remember that time when an ice skate went flying into the side of Kenneh's head? Man that was great…."

Silence.

"Or how about just walking around the pond? Being outdoors is much better than being in that… place."

Leave it to Cartman to ruin the moment, again. "Hey guys, remember the time when that bird swooped from the sky and attacked Kenny's head? Man that was great…."

Silence.

"Or how about you just sit on one of the benches or something?" suggested Kyle, raising an arm behind his head. "I'm sure that's still loads better than Tom's Rhinoplasty."

"Hey guys, remember the time when—?"  
Cartman never got the chance to finish.

"Fine, Stark's Pond," muttered Kenny under his breath. "But if I die again…."

"It's not like you won't come back anyway," said Stan. "Come on dude, just come with us."

Eventually the boy relented, and after going home to get their individual skates the boys met at the aforementioned pond. Granted it wasn't _really_ a pond, as it was much the size of a lake, but Stark's Lake wasn't as revered of a name.

"See, Kenny, no flying skates or rabid birds," Kyle pointed out, stepping onto the pond. "And it's still relatively frozen too!"

"_Relatively_?" asked Kenny, voice completely full of doubt. "That ice could crack at any moment, dude!"

"Since when were you such a worrywart, dude?" said Stan, frowning. "Nothing's going to happen to you, Ken. Just get in with the rest of us already."

**XX**

Sad to say, Kenny did go in. But several things were against his favor.

1 – As Kyle had said, the ice was only _relatively_ frozen.  
2 – Given that Cartman was on the ice with them, the sheet of ice wouldn't quite be enough to support the weight of them all.  
3 – A particularly clumsy Stan (seemingly) ran straight into Kenny by accident, and the two of them falling seriously weakened the ice.  
4 – Each of Cartman's strides was life-threatening to the poor ice, and as Cartman roughed the poor blonde playfully he had unknowingly sent him into his plunge of death.

Stan did (seemingly) try to help the boy, but all attempts were in vain. Kenny had died. Again.

And, of course,  
"Oh my _God_, you killed Kenny!"  
"You _bastard_!"

**XX**

Usually when Kenny died the other three were quite indifferent about his absence. After all, the occurrence did occur way too often to even pay attention, and the three didn't even consider it disrespectful to the blonde boy if they didn't think once about him.

But when Kenny didn't show up the following morning, Kyle found himself slowly caring. Of course, no one except Stan actually noticed this (though Cartman had to have been a real dunce to not notice), but even as they hung around in the mornings before class it was evident that Kenny's absence disturbed him.

"You okay?" Stan asked, turning to his friend. "You've been quiet ever since I picked you up."

"It's nothing," Kyle lied, looking toward a passing group of freshman girls. "It's just… it's so weird."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," said Stan, sighing. "A morning without Kenny's innuendos is really hard to think about…." Of course, internally Stan didn't mind at all, especially since no one now was hitting on the Jewish boy. Still, saying that he did might be a good idea….

"No, not that," said Kyle, frowning. "Except for that one time, Kenny's never been away this long."

"Sure he has," Cartman piped in. "Remember that one snowstorm?"

"I said except for that one day, damnit!"

"How about that one time when Kenneh died of some terminal sickness or something like that."

"Goddamnit Cartman, shut the hell up already!" Cartman immediately stepped back, much against his usual demeanor—but that had probably been out of instinct. After all, an unhappy Kyle was indeed someone to avoid. "Why in the world are you so indifferent about this anyway, fatass? You practically killed him, you murderer! You and your fucking weight! You should be listed as a serial killer for possessing all the weight!"

"Ai! Shut the hell up or I'll kill _you_ with this weight!"

"Calm down, Kyle," assured Stan, patting his friend on the back. "It's only been less than a day, dude. I'm sure he'll come back soon."

"I hope so." Stan smiled at Kyle, giving the boy one last hug before heading off to class. Seeing Kyle like that made him feel so… unaccomplished, as if his unhappiness meant he had failed somewhere. But at the same time, his being unhappy because of Kenny's absence…. Wasn't that oh-so-blatantly crying out "OMG-STAN-I-LOVE-KENNY-AND-I-MISS-HIM"?

"I hope to fucking god Kyle doesn't like Kenny," Stan said with a sigh before entering his class.

**XX**

Kenny didn't show up at lunch either, which was a shame as they had had hot dogs yet again for lunch that day.

But as the day progressed, if Kenny didn't show up in due time, Stan would be ready to execute a seemingly perfect plan.

**XX**

"Shakey's Pizza?" Kyle asked with a frown. "Now?"

"Sure, why not?" replied Stan. "Actually, it's more of me taking you somewhere to hang out as opposed to eating another meal." Stan unlocked Kyle's side of the door and made his way to his own. "So you game?"

"I guess," said Kyle, flipping open his phone. "I s'pose I'll go tell my mom, then." Shakey's Pizza was decently close in distance to the school, and so the ride itself hadn't been very long. The ride itself was silent save Kyle's loud banters with his mother, Stan occasionally bursting into laughter at the occasional Hebrew phrase. Within a good five minutes the two arrived, and with the shutting of an engine Stan stepped out of the car.

"You don't mind if Cartman's not here, right?"

"Holy fuck, of _course_ I mind!" exclaimed Kyle.

Stan glared at him confusedly. "Wait… so you want him to come?"

Kyle shook his head. "No…. I thought you asked me if I minded Cartman's being here."

"I said if he's not here," corrected Stan.

"In that case… no, I don't mind." Stan laughed at their miscommunication, opening the door for the Jewish boy as the two stepped into the restaurant. The usual proceedings followed, from Stan's calling the waitress ("Dirty slut," Stan muttered so that only the two of them could hear.) to Kyle's insistence of sitting where he could see the majority of the people and not the window ("You're being like my uncle," Stan teased as Kyle pouted. "Are you like some sort of war veteran now, or something?"), and within minutes the two began talking casually with each other.

Casually being the keyword, as the two pretty much talked about anything that passed over their roof-covered blue sky. Granted the two generally steered away from bringing up Kenny, but the two managed to jump from Calculus homework (Kyle being much more knowledgeable in that respect) to self-inflicted cuts from long toenails Stan was lazy to clip off. Seemingly the conversation was lighthearted and spontaneous, but in due time Stan's ulterior motives would be evident.

And then, maybe not-so-ulterior.

"So how's that thing coming along?" Stan asked after the two had finished a shared personal pan pizza.

Kyle stared at him blankly. "What thing?"

"You know," said Stan, tapping his fingers once on the table. "Like, with that queasy-stomach-feeling of yours… the person you like?"

"Oh, _that_…." Kyle sighed quietly, taking a sip out of his cup before continuing. "I've… sorta gotten somewhere. Haven't really had a chance to, err, see if—the person likes me back or not."

"What'd you have in mind?"

"I… I don't know," said Kyle, stuttering. "Haven't really thought about it yet."

"Here, said Stan, raising his hand to receive the bill (from the dirty slut). "Tomorrow, during lunch, I'll get you to find out for yourself. If Kenny's back by then I'll even get him to help you out. Sounds good?" Kyle frowned, slightly hesitating at the thought. From Stan's perspective he couldn't tell what was causing the boy to hold back (although, the assumptions in his mind gave him a rather good idea), but within moments (after paying the bill to the dirty slut) Kyle nodded his head.

"Sure…. It'll probably be impossible, but it sounds okay of a plan to me."

"Then it's a deal," said Stan, rising up from his seat. "So, shall I bring you home now?"

Minutes later as they walked out of the building, more minutes later when Kyle left his car, and even hours after as he stared into the rough textures of the ceiling in the later hours on his bed, Stan couldn't help but to adore the days when Kenny was completely out of his way and nowhere in range of the boy he loved.

In a non-gay way, of course.


	3. Tell me, why does this bother you so?

3: Tell me, why does this bother you so?  


"What the hell, it's bigger than I thought!" a flabbergast Kyle exclaimed. "There's no way I'm getting all of that into my mouth!"

"You're taking too damn long," Stan muttered with hissed breath. "Stop making me wait so much, dude!"

"I can't help it," Kyle said, eyes still wide at the sight in front of him. "There's stuff starting to drip down the sides and it's making it hard to consume all this with one swallow!"

Surely, without a doubt, most of the people sitting around their lunch table would be quite uncomfortable, and even though they were quite used to this perverseness, the idea of Kenny not being with them seemed to knock them into surprise nonetheless.

Stan sighed. "Kyle, no one—and I mean _no one_—can possibly eat Sloppy Joe's in one swallow. Take your time, dude."

"You just said I was taking too damn long!"

"Well… yeah, you are. Hurry up then, because we need to embark on that little quest of yours to talk to the person you like."

Kyle hesitated at the thought but nodded anyway. "Sure, just give me a minute to eat this."

"Kahl," taunted the remaining boy at their table. "Kahl, I'm pretteh sure that's totalleh not Kosher."

"Fuck off, fatass," snapped Kyle. "It's not _entirely_ non-Kosher. Besides, that was the only thing the cafeteria ladies were selling today, no thanks to someone."

"Don't mention it," Cartman replied with a slight chuckle, completely ignoring the glaring look he was receiving. "Hey, Stan, shouldn't you and Kahl be leaving?"

"Yeah, definitely," muttered Stan. "Seriously, dude, hurry up!"

"I'm trying to finish," Kyle said with a stuffed mouth. "But it's not like Kenny's here, anyway."

"We can do it without him."

"No we can't," Kyle said a little too quickly. "It's really hard to… without him." Stan gulped at the idea of Kenny possibly being the person Kyle liked, but the assumptions in his mind caused him to shake those fears. After all, it had been blatantly obvious before that Kyle liked _him_ and not Kenny… right?

"Fine," Stan said at last. "Kenny's probably more experienced in that field anyway. We'll wait until tomorrow, then."

"Or whenever he decides to show up," said Kyle. "Now with that set, maybe I can finally get this thing finished already."

**XX**

As it turned out, Kenny decided to show up the next day during lunch.

"Aw man, you missed it, dude!" Cartman said, not wasting any time in recalling the events of the day before. "So yesterday the cafeteria was serving Sloppy Joes, right?"

As Kenny nodded with sheer interest Kyle shook his head, turning slightly to Stan. "Was it really anything that special?"

"What?" Stan asked, shaking his head as if having been previously in his own world. "Oh, you mean about how you finished lunch yesterday?"

Kyle nodded. "Yeah, that. I didn't think stuffing the rest in my mouth would be all that exciting, really."

"I'm sure Kenny will, though," the raven-haired boy replied with a sigh. "Knowing him, at least…."

"The bell had already rung!" Kyle exclaimed in defense. "What else was I gonna do, anyway? I would've been late."

A laugh thereafter told both boys Kenny had enjoyed the tale remarkably. "I don't think Cartman put that in his story," Stan said smugly. "But I don't think Kenny's gonna remember that in the long run, anyway."

Kyle nodded as he glanced back at the rest of his lunch table, blushing slightly at Kenny's goofy face. Stan frowned for a while, doing his best in staring at his friend as discreetly as possible; but after much self-reasoning he finally shook off the thoughts that were plaguing him. It wouldn't be possible, anyway….

"So," Stan said with a smile, patting Kyle on the back. "Now that Kenny's back I believe we should embark on that quest of yours, now." With pure interest Kenny raised an eyebrow at Kyle, a glance only suggesting that he explain the details. Kyle knew that look too well, however he wished he hadn't.

"I… I really can't," a flustered Kyle responded, avoiding Kenny's eyes—the action going unmissed by Stan.

"Whoa, what's this 'quest' Stan's talking about?" asked Kenny, the eagerness quite clear in his voice. "Did I really miss _that_ much while I was gone?"

"Not really," Stan said, raising his arms to aid him in his story. "You see, Kyle—" but he said no more. Despite his excitement, Stan had at least remembered his promise to Kyle… the promise of him not telling anyone Kyle liked anyone…. However, a reassuring yet smug smile (or frown, as it seemed more like) from Kyle told Stan he didn't care anymore, and so he proceeded. "Kyle likes someone, and this quest thing was my attempt to get him to ask that lucky gu—person on a date."

"Ah," said Kenny, turning to the redhead. "Dude, you should totally do it!"

"First off," snapped Kyle, "I wasn't going to ask anyone on a date. I was just gonna… interrogate… and see if I had a chance. But now that I'm thinking about it, I don't really wanna do it anymore."

"But you said you'd do it when Kenny came back!" Stan protested, but he was silenced immediately by Kyle's snappish voice once more.

"_No_," Kyle said, glaring at his best friend. "I'll deal with my own problems, thanks." And before Stan could complain Kyle ripped his lunch tray off the tabletop and stormed off. The three other boys—and those around them, too—remained silent for a while in the wake of Kyle's absence, Stan muttering something feverishly under his breath, and even when Cartman tried to 'cheer' Stan up with a heartless anti-Semitic joke no one spoke.

It was only after a good five minutes—four minutes after those around them continued lunch once more—when Kenny finally decided to talk. "I s'pose I'll go talk to him, then."

**XX**

Stan never saw Kyle for the rest of that day. Not around school, not by the lockers (where they usually waited for each other)—nowhere. Stan couldn't even find Kyle thirty minutes after the last bell so he could take the boy home (incidentally he couldn't find Kenny, either). In his mind he knew the Jewish boy hated him, and though he convinced his frowning mother at his house that he was fine, Shelley was not so easily convinced.

"Welcome home, turd," she scowled, clenching her fists. "How's about a knuckle sandwich for being my brother?"

"Morning to you too, Shelley," had been the ever-so-enthusiastic reply, sending Shelley into a world of complete shock.

"Okay, _turd_," Shelley seethed, grabbing at her brother's collar from behind. "I'll let you know I don't have to act nice around you anymore 'coz of those damn sessions, but… wanna tell me what's up?"

Stan turned to his rather violent sister and frowned, her fake and forced smile anything but convincing. "Who are you and what've you done to my sister?"

"Stop acting smart around me," the girl growled, using a tone that made Stan cower and remove his doubts that she was in fact his sister. "You just seem more wounded than I could ever make you, so I figured, as your sister, I could help you be happier again… so I can wound you myself, later."

"Gotcha," Stan replied, even smiling at his sister's reasoning. But a slight nod and a silent trudge to her room removed any smile he might've developed. "Well, where to start…."

"Why are you strutting around like an emo-pussy?" Shelley asked, the bitterness startling him slightly. Though, Stan figured, he probably should've expected it….

"It's Kyle," he began, and immediately she grins hard. "No, he's not my boyfriend, and _no_ I'm not like this because he broke up with me."

"I never said anything of the sort," Shelley replied, still smirking. "Though, I'm still waiting for the day you tell me something that _is_ true?"

"Right," Stan muttered. "We got into a fight… sorta. I really don't remember what happened, though. We were talking about an agreement we had, and then suddenly he backed out and bitched at me for it. I don't really know what it is that got him mad at me, but I know it's my fault…."

"So you're being a complete wuss for something you aren't even sure about?" Shelley asked. "Seriously, Stan, be a man, won't you? At least ask the kid what you did wrong!" She shook her head impatiently and sighed. "So basically you're having guy trouble, huh?"

"Yeah," Stan replied. "Not in that kinda way, but in a sense, yeah. But what should I do?"

"Will it take a knocking to hear me the first time?" Shelley asked, her rough manner resurfacing once more. "Ask the kid, I told you. You turds are _so_ stupid sometimes…."

Stan left before Shelley could feed her fists his undamaged skin.

**XX**

Talking to his best friend that next day proved harder than he would've thought for several reasons.

1 – Stan had planned to talk to Kyle about it on their way to school, but his hopes had been somewhat crushed when Ms. Broflovski informed him Kyle had walked to school that day.  
2 – Stan realized that Kenny was becoming more of a better friend to Kyle than he was, and without a doubt Kyle knew it too.  
3 – Stan continued to hesitate during the classes they had together, for he remained fearful that Kyle would take his attempts to mend his wrongs the wrong way.  
4 – Kyle was clearly avoiding him.

Still, he knew he'd have to do it eventually, and as he remained awake upon his muddled bedsheets he wondered if best friends were really meant to have so many arguments amongst each other.

**XX**

"Hey," a brave boy managed to utter as he approached a particular locker. A redhead looked up from his position, stuffing a few books into the said locker, and smiled weakly back at him.

"Hey Stan. Sup?"

"You… err, want a ride home…?" Nervousness clearly racked his voice, but despite his stuttering problem Stan did his best to hide the face that he wasn't the most confident of people. Though, Stan figured, Kyle probably figured.

"Sure," Kyle said, shrugging. "Walking home's been a pain in the ass, anyway."

"That's good," said Stan, smiling in relief as he leaned against a nearby wall. Had it really been that easy…? "Hey, so uh, I'm sorry for the other day…. I guess I'm just kinda jealous, you know? How Kenny seems to get along with you now more than I ever have in the past while."

Kyle smiled, closing the door to his locker as he stood up while shaking his head. "Stan, my dear Stan… what's done is done, no? No need to dwell on what's already happened." Stan managed a shrug as the two began walking toward the parking lot. "Besides, I don't know why I got—"

"Hey," Stan interjected. "No need to dwell on what's already happened, right?"

Kyle chuckled. "Yeah, I s'pose so." Stan reached forward to unlock the door to Kyle's side of the car. "Anyway, in the end I took your advice… did some investigating and whatnot."

Stan froze on his side of the car. Investigating…? But Kyle hadn't…. "You did?"

"Yeah," Kyle replied, and as he stepped inside Stan still had at least the consciousness to enter the car and start the car. "Kenny said I did a good job, too… said I was a real flirt at times…."

"Oh," had been all Stan could say. He pulled out of the school parking lot, ignoring Kyle's frowning face as he turned his head to look out the back of the vehicle, and as he sped away he put in his best effort to not glance at the Jewish boy next to him.

"Sorry," Kyle replied, sighing as he rubbed his head. "I forgot you had that thing with Kenny…."

"Don't worry about it, dude" Stan replied. "I'm fine." Though, as the car ride progressed, the silence that surrounded them wasn't entirely in favor of his claim. Neither had said a word until Stan pulled in front of Kyle's house, and barely even muttered a word as he waved Kyle a goodbye.

Though… he didn't leave immediately.

"Stan…?" Kyle asked, hesitance in his voice—though that seemed to get Stan's attention. "Since you're my best friend and all… can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure, dude."

What Kyle said next couldn't make him any happier—though he made sure to make it not so obvious. "I… kinda like guys…."

Stan glanced at Kyle and, noticing his worried expression, smiled cheerfully at his friend. "So what? That's it? There's nothing to be ashamed of, dude. I know plenty of gay guys…."

Kyle sighed in relief. "Really, dude? Ah, I knew you'd understand!" and before Stan could utter another word he was wrapped into some sort of hug. Granted that their positions made it rather awkward, but it was a hug nevertheless, not to mention from Kyle…. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Stan. And don't tell anyone, okay?"

"I won't, not even to Kenny." Stan managed a laugh as he scratched the back of his head, though the response from Kyle hadn't been entirely what he had expected. "Though… can I ask who the lucky guy is, then…?"

His laugh died, his smile disappeared, any cheeriness the boy might've had had now disappeared, all because of the silent and discouraging expression Kyle was now giving him. Nevertheless he bit his lip and awaited an answer from his friend, and when he got one he found his own hopes flushing away down the drain.

"Kenny… and uh, I'm sorta… seeing him now, actually."

**XX**

Stan was spread on Kyle's bed, shirt tossed somewhere in his room; and he was gasping for air as if moments before he hadn't been able to. He knew that close by Kyle was staring at him with wide eyes, and he knew—or so he thought he knew—what his friend was thinking at that moment. Lights barely lit, soft music playing in the distance….

"You feeling okay?" Kyle asked as he approached Stan, face towel in hand. "Here, you might wanna use this to wipe that off."

"Thanks," Stan replied, smiling as best he could—though still a blatantly fake smile. "And yes, I'm okay."

"Tired you out too much?" Kyle said with a grin, but that quickly vanished when Stan said nothing. "Look, I already told you—"

"You don't have to say anything," Stan interrupted, pausing as he wiped the liquids off his face; their previous activities had really left Stan in quite a mess…. "I told you I'm okay with it."

"If you say so." For a while there was silence, much to the disappointment of both Kyle and Stan, but as both boys tried to speak the silence proved inevitable. They could only commit to silent actions in the somewhat door, which happened to include Stan's sniffing of his towel.

"Sick, it smells."

"Maybe because it _does_ smell," Kyle said matter-of-factly, sitting down beside Stan. "Here's your shirt. Though… it kinda smells too."

"And it's sweat-stained," Stan added, pulling it over himself nevertheless. He didn't care how retarded he looked in front of his friend at that point—he was already taken, as he found out hours before—and the large stain on his front side only gave reason for a needed laugh. Stan, initially only passing by to drop Kyle off from school, had somehow managed to get himself invited inside, and soon he found himself playing basketball with the boy.

But it hadn't ended there. He was politely invited by Mrs. Broflovski to eat with the family for dinner, and afterwards the two boys had spent quite a long time wrestling each other on Kyle's bed. Of course, it proved awkward when Mr. Broflovski walked in, but after a brief explanation he felt much happier in asking Stan to stay the night. Yet even after Kyle's father's instated curfew, the two had merely dimmed the lights to create the impression they were asleep.

"Put on music," Kyle had suggested as Stan turned off all the lights in the room—except the one by Kyle's computer. "In case the bed creaks from all the wrestling and stuff."

And Stan had done exactly that. For at least a half hour they continued to wrestle each other, each boy claiming to be stronger than the other. Quite frankly Stan was surprised at how strong Kyle actually was, but in the end Stan's more extensive athletic background became the reason he had won.

After that, though… now _that_ had been where the awkwardness had set in. And though the awkwardness at the present moment, four in the morning, was almost inevitable no matter how much they tried, the one tow hours before could've well been avoided.

"Why?" Stan had asked, almost seething, as he pinned Kyle to the boy's own bed.

"Why what?"

"Why'd you have to go like _him_?" Any trace of a smile that might've been on Kyle's face at that moment vanished. "Why Kenny, of all people?"

Kyle had tried to push the boy off him but Stan only pressed harder, digging his palms into Kyle's own, Stan's legs barring Kyle's upper thighs. "Stan, get off me!"

"Why?"

"Stan—!"

"Why?" and with that Kyle pushed him off—not because Kyle had overpowered his friend, but because Stan had practically rolled to his side. As Kyle straightened himself up by his bed he watched the collapsed Stan, hunched into a small ball, clearly even more of a mess. The boy was making stains on Kyle's bed, stains Kyle's mother would probably regard as something other than sweat, but sensing some form of sympathy Kyle decided not to care.

"Stan…" Kyle had said caringly, patting Stan on his back. "Stan, you said… you said you were fine with me liking guys and all…."

"What?—no, no…. Look, Kyle. I really don't mind that at all, really. It's just…." Stan gulped; if he hadn't caught himself he would've spilt his secret to Kyle, the secret that he wanted that Jewish ass more than anyone probably ever could (in his opinion, anyway). And sure, that sounded a bit bold, but he knew it to be true…. His conflict now, though, was that now that he was Kenny's… was it worth giving up?

"Just…?" Kyle asked, fishing for the rest of his sentence.

"…just… err, just that… I… I… I don't think that… Kenny is, err… right for you…?" Stan sighed afterward; he hadn't said it. But whether his substitute had passed off well…. But he sighed yet again in relief once Kyle nodded, sitting down in front of his computer.

"He makes me laugh," Kyle said slowly, turning his chair to face Stan. "And he isn't that bad looking, either. Plus, despite that perverse exterior of his—"

"—he's got something underneath that?"

Kyle ignored both Stan's joke and the accompanying smirk. "Kenny's actually a really nice person."

Stan shrugged, turning away. "I could disagree," Stan said. In truth he actually found the couple to be rather cute—well not cute, because that word was for girls… along those lines, though. Kenny—the loquacious of the two, outgoing, somewhat athletic, and completely unorganized—matched with Kyle, the more reserved of the two… it wasn't that bad of a combination. Quite frankly, if he weren't going after the latter himself he would've congratulated his friend many, many times.

As it was, though….

"Stan…?" Stan had looked at Kyle, his eyes twinkling with some unknown glint that Kyle could not place, and as he uttered a soft reply Kyle cleared his throat to continue. "Being completely honest with me… are you sure you're okay with this?"

Stan didn't respond for a moment, shifting his position so he was seated at the edge of the bed, but in the end he nodded. "'Course I am," he had said. "Besides, what good is it if I weren't? This is between you and Kenny. I'm not involved."

"Stan, seriously…" and Kyle had stepped closer to Stan, so dangerously close to him that Stan's breath had hitched for a second. "I want you to look into my eyes and tell me so." Stan had raised his eyebrows, but the expression on Kyle's face had told him he was being completely serious.

"Kyle, I swear…." Kyle placed a few fingers under Stan's chin, raising his head upward as they met eyes. "Kyle, I swear that I am… happy… that…."

"Stop laughing!" Kyle exclaimed, hitting Stan lightly in the head with his free hand. And then, lowering himself to his level, Kyle repeated himself.

"Fine, fine," Stan said, looking away to calm himself. But looking back had only caused him to break out once more. "Stop looking so serious, then." And after that, once the two had come to that agreement, Stan told Kyle what he wanted to hear. "I swear to you that I'm more than happy for you, Kyle Broflovski, and that I support what you're doing… and that I want your babies."

"What the hell?" Kyle had exclaimed, even as he was breaking into laughter. "You can't have my babies; I won't even—" but before he could finish Stan pulled him down on to him, the mattress squeaking slightly with the added mass.

Indeed, they did talk much longer afterward—after all, it _had_ been a good two hours before, and in that time Stan had grown closer to his best friend… as if they actually could. He had learned that Kenny had been the one to ask Kyle, that Kyle accepted with hesitation (though out of fear, not because he had someone else in mind… to Stan's disappointment)… and after their conversation Stan had collapsed onto Kyle's bed, gasping for breath (not because they had wrestled again, but because he had just learned so much about his once closeted best friend, and it was proving difficult to take in).

But now they were side by side once more, with only two and a half hours before sunrise and seriously discussing whether sleep would be an option that night.

"Let's not."  
"Good call."

…and that had been that. Another silence found the two once more, a silence neither boy wanted; but again, it'd prove to be inevitable. Though the silence, their minds surely were not remaining quiet as their mouths. Stan wasn't sure anymore what Kyle was thinking but he most certainly knew what he was asking himself—that same question he had wondered of since the beginning.

With a gulped, Stan uttered (pathetically). "…Ky…Kyle?"

"Yep." The response had been so casual, almost startling Stan for a second. Still…. "You sure I can't steer you away from Kenny?"

Kyle expressed an irritated sigh. "Yeah, Stan, that's my final word."

"Okay, okay… just asking… geez." The room remained silent for a moment as Stan planned his next words (which took a whopping two seconds). "Guess I'm gonna have to tell Pete it's no go, then…."

"Pete?" Kyle asked, astonished. "Who's that?"

Stan smirked, getting the response he wanted. "Oh, no one… just a guy on my football team who seems really interested in you… he's hot too, or so I'm told." Of course, there really wasn't any Pete on his football team, but it wouldn't be something he'd tell Kyle. "Anyway, should I just tell him there's no point in trying, then?"

"I guess so," Kyle replied, shrugging. However, as Stan nodded (discreetly disappointed, as well), Kyle shook his head. "Wait, no…." A smile grew on his face, a smile Stan didn't recognize, but in the end Stan soon found that smile on his own face. "Tell him to keep trying."

"What?" Stan asked, tilting his head. "Why, dude?"

Kyle smirked. "Tell him to keep trying… and that as much as he tries he'll never have me." Stan smirked, and as the two looked at each other they burst out laughing. Sneaky, Stan thought to himself, but it proved a better result than he had planned…

Keeping that bit to himself, he got up from the bed. "I'm gonna take a shower now… and get ready for school, maybe."

"Sure," Kyle replied. "I guess I'll take one after you, then."

"Good deal, dude." Smirking, as he walked away, head raised high, Stan gave himself a silent cheer. _Oh I'll try, all right… but I _will_ have you…."_

-

In the end Stan decided he wouldn't give up, and he had many reasons behind his decision.

1 – He wanted Kyle.  
2 – Kyle's ass was too sexy to pass up.  
3 – He'd never be able to live with the regret if he had given up.

…and the rest of the reasons he'd keep to himself and his dreams.


	4. It's just another arcade game

4: It's just another arcade game  


"…Don't think you can keep me from entering for very long… I have excellent sea men waiting to penetrate your defenses… should you refuse us entry we'll come at you with incredible speed… no, no, don't even bother pulling out any protection… my sea men always reach their intended target… they'll squeeze through any opening they—"

"IKE!" Kyle yelled suddenly, stopping the poor boy in mid-sentence. "Ike, _please_ play your game of World War II somewhere else."

"World War I!" Ike corrected, shaking his head.

"Same difference. Besides, Stan and I are trying to do a project, and it's hard enough with all the noise you're making, regardless of which war you're reenacting." With a defeated sigh Ike began putting the figurines and toy battleships into his container, and though there were better things to do for some reason Stan and Kyle found themselves watching the boy instead.

"Isn't he too old for this kind of stuff?" Stan asked, frowning at the sight. "Ever since he was like four, this is the only thing I remember him doing."

"Mom tells him the same thing," Kyle replied, and immediately he began a rather accurate imitation of his mother. Stan laughed at this, though the two received a somewhat foul glance from Ike on the floor. "He's a really smart kid—too smart, in fact—it's just that he's still a…."

"Kid at heart?" suggested Stan, and Kyle nodded.

"Yeah, that. Anyway, about this project—"

"—what about it?" asked Stan.

"We should try finishing it up in like an hour or so," Kyle concluded, clearing his throat. "Kenny's coming over later, and I doubt we'll be able to get much done with him around."

"Kenny's coming?" asked a surprised Ike from the floor. Stan really didn't know why Ike would be mildly interested about the idea, but he presumed it wasn't the same reason his brother had. "Why's he coming? Does mom know?"

"Of course she knows," Kyle replied matter-of-factly. "And if it really concerns you, he's staying at our place for the entire weekend. His parents kicked him out for… reasons he didn't share with me." Judging by his friend's reaction Stan almost knew that Kyle had lied about the last part, but he'd keep his mouth shut in front of Ike. Granted that it had been a week since his awkward conversation with Kyle, Stan hadn't felt the same around their blonde friend.

It was much easier to be around someone who was clueless about his feelings, Stan had argued, than someone who already held suspicions.

"The whole weekend?" asked Ike, picking up his container of toys. For a second Stan could've sworn he'd seen a dangerous glint in Ike's eye, but he disregarded it as merely being the light. "Anyway, I'll leave you to your project, then."

"Thanks. Go get those Americans, then!" and with that Ike left the room. Kyle turned to Stan, mouth open as if ready to ask him something, but he stopped in mid-sentence after seeing his puzzled face. "Ike likes playing the Germans," the Jewish boy explained.

"Ah, I see," Stan replied, nodding. However, not long afterward, he frowned. "Why?"

"Beats me," Kyle said, shrugging. "Mom goes ballistic at the idea, especially whenever he reenacts the Holocaust. I think it's because he wasn't born Jewish, so he really doesn't care whether something goes against his religion… or something like that."

"Then again," Stan added, poking his friend in the side. "There're a lot of other people I know who disregard their religion as well… Mr. I'm-Kosher-but-not."

"And what exactly is _that_ supposed to mean?" asked Kyle, waving his finger threateningly. With the same finger he poked Stan sharply in the side, and the boy jumped in spot. "Anyway, getting to work…."

"Yeah, I s'pose." The two remained silent for the next however-many-minutes-it-actually-was, working hard on their project. Occasionally they would talk, but if they did it would only be to collaborate on ideas. Quite frankly the two preferred the silence, as they seemed to work best in it.

It was no surprise, then, that when the two finished they let out one giant sigh, in unison, and both collapsing on the bed. "'bout time," said Stan, smiling. "So where's Kenny?"

"Couldn't tell you," Kyle said, shrugging as he turned to his watch. "He said he'd be around by seven or so… it's six-fifty, now."

"Good deal," said Stan. Then, after a few more minutes, Stan continued. "Hey, later, when Kenny gets here, you wanna go to the arcade? We can catch some sort of dinner while we're out, too."

"I… I'm not sure, dude. I don't think Kenny would really want to—"

"Sure he will," Stan interjected. "He's into that sort of thing, isn't he? Besides, you guys can think of it as a date."

"A… date?" Kyle stuttered.

Stan nodded. "Yeah, a date… the two of you need one of those, anyway." He nudged Kyle in the side. "Come on, Kyle, give it a try."

"I guess, then," Kyle said. "But why are you so enthusiastic about this idea, anyway? Won't you feel left out or something… like, dunno, a third wheel?"

Stan smirked, shaking his head as he reached into his back pocket. "No," he said, revealing to Kyle the objects in his hand. "I've got spare tokens to use up. Now get in the car."

**XX**

Kenny hadn't even stepped foot into Kyle's house when the boy had pulled him into a kiss, one much deeper than he and Stan had previously planned. Stan watched from his car, surprised that Kenny hadn't even seen him in it when he passed, but witnessing the scene from where he was proved excruciating. After all, watching the person he liked passionately kiss one of his friends wasn't exactly something he liked doing, yet nevertheless….

In accordance to their plan, Kyle pressed the blonde against the brick wall of the house, leaning into the boy's ear to whisper something—or so Stan hoped. For all he knew he was tongue-fucking his boyfriend—yes, tongue-fucking—or maybe even . . . . Though, thought Stan, Kyle wasn't exactly one to initiate such actions, especially after dating Kenny for only a week so far.

Eventually, as Stan noted from his position in his car, Kenny nodded at whatever Kyle had said, and before long the two boys were making their way to Stan's car. With a push of the button the doors unlocked, and, though Stan hadn't been surprised, the both of them had seated themselves in the backseat.

"A few simple rules," Stan said with a clear voice, smiling at the both of them from the rearview mirror.

1 – Cuddling is permitted, but no groping.  
2 – Very minimal kissing.  
3 – No making out.  
4 – Limit the usage of innuendos.  
5 – No hand jobs, blow jobs, or any jobs—except the one that involves cleaning Stan's car's floor.

…and that had only been the beginning.

"We get the idea, Stan." Kenny said, smirking. "Just drive and gimme the bag of candy, already."

"Candy?" Stan asked, turning to the reflection of Kyle in his mirror.

Kyle sighed, and then laughed. "He wouldn't come immediately—"

"Why would I?—it ruins the moment!"

Kyle continued as if never interrupted. "—so I told him. _Just get in the car, damnit! He's got candy!_ Turns out, it actually worked." Kyle laughed at the thought, but smiled sheepishly at the expression he saw through the mirror. "Guess you're gonna hafta get Kenny a present at the arcade, now."

"No shit," Stan said, rolling his eyes. He reached for the keys to start the car, and with a rumble it started. "You guys wanna head over to McDonalds or something, first? You know, to eat and stuff?"

"Sounds good," said Kyle. "There's one a bit outside town. That new one."

"The one with the Play Place?" Kenny asked, perhaps a bit too excitedly.

Kyle nodded. "You're a bit too happy about that though, aren't you?"

"I've been happier," Kenny replied, winking. "You know, that one night when you—"

"Rule number four!" exclaimed Stan, and as they pulled away from Kyle's house the car grew quiet. Sad to say that for Kenny, talking without innuendos wasn't exactly a mere walk in the park. "Okay, fine… I guess I could let the innuendos slide."

Kenny cheered with much enthusiasm, Stan rolling his eyes as he turned the steering wheel. "I think I'll have a McChicken or something."

"Aw, not again," said Kyle, frowning. "You purposely get some of the mayonnaise on your mouth…."

Kenny nodded.

"…and then you purposely suck your drink to death…."

Kenny nodded.

"And then—"

"—I don't wanna know," said Stan, perhaps a bit loudly. "Geez, Kyle, when'd you become Kenny's assistant in perverse jokes?"

"Influence?" suggested Kyle, laughing as he leaned somewhat against the blonde. "Anyway, for your sake, I'll make sure he doesn't do any of that."

Stan gave his thanks and went back to driving, and though he had stopped the use of his mouth that hadn't held true with ears. Indeed, as he pulled into the parking lot of McDonalds, he could just barely make out something Kenny had said, enough for him to frown at the thought.

"Why'd we have to bring him, anyway?"

Because he was their chauffeur. Because he secretly wanted Kyle to be his. Something along those lines.

"I can order for all you guys," Kyle said, placing on his hat—ushanka—as they stepped out of the car. "Just tell me what you guys want."

"You already know mine," said Kenny. "But are you sure? I can come with you, if you want."

Kyle snorted. "As if you had to ask. But no, I'm fine. Go get a table with Stan or something."

"But…." Kenny searched Kyle's face incredulously, as if expecting to see some sort of hint hidden in his face; but when he saw none he gave a defeated sigh. Then, with a quick glance at Stan, Kenny smiled. "Sure then. There's something I have to ask Stan about."

"Oh?" Kyle asked, surprised; but he ignored this and turned to Stan. "You want anything?"

"Just get me fries or something," Stan said, waving his hand. "I'm not that hungry." Kyle nodded, and as he entered the building he stepped into the already lengthy line. Stan watched from the door; he watched Kyle tap his foot, scratch his head, hum to himself—and the view was rather nice, too.

"Excuse me, sir," said an old man, and Stan stepped away from the door, embarrassed.

Kenny smirked from where he was at. "Stan… let's talk." The sentence to Stan wasn't exactly the most… pleasant… of tones, but as they entered the Play Place that tone changed quite suddenly. "Want some balls?"

"What?"

"Those balls over there," said Kenny, pointing to the ball pit. "No, I mean you. Want some balls?—like, to tell Kyle a particularly important something."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" stammered Stan, but deep down inside he knew exactly what Kenny was referring to. He knew Kenny knew; ever since Kenny and Kyle had gotten together he had always wondered what the blonde would do with what he knew, and apparently now Stan knew exactly what Kenny had in mind.

"I'm sure you do," said Kenny, poking Stan sharply in his side. "You're—hmm, how should I put this?—gay for Kyle. You know you want to admit it." Kenny raised his eyebrows suggestively, causing Stan's face to contort. "Just admit it…."

"Fine, I am," muttered Stan, looking away. "No use denying something I already know you know." Kenny smirked, placing his arm around the other boy and guiding him around the play area.

"Don't you think you should tell him?" the blonde asked, looking at Stan. "Of course, he'll probably reject, seeing as he's with me… unless he takes you and leaves me to bite the dust."

Stan frowned. "Why are you encouraging me if you'll know there's a good chance I'll fail? Sounds like a bad friend, to me." Kenny shrugged, looking toward a particular kid taking the plunge down one of the slides. "Why would you encourage me knowing you could lose your boyfriend?"

"Because I'm your friend," said Kenny, a smile on his face. Then, turning to Stan, he continued. "And friends don't just see their friends suffer and let it pass." So that was what it was all about. Stan knew Kenny could tell Stan liked his best friend, but until now Stan had thought that Kenny was saving the piece of information for blackmail purposes, but…. "Even if it doesn't work out, there are many other balls in the sea waiting for you." He points to the ball pit once more.

"Why now?" asked Stan, frowning and ignoring Kenny's references. "If you've known all this time… why now? Huh, why now?" His tone grew increasingly louder as he continued, Kenny retreating slightly at the anger now present in Stan's voice. "If you knew I liked him, that I was suffering from it, why'd you go date him?"

"I…I don't know. He asked _me_, dude. And you know me… I'd never pass up on free loving." Kenny laughed, but the expression on Stan's face told him now wasn't exactly the time to be fooling around. After a few seconds, jokes aside, Kenny placed a comforting hand on Stan's shoulder. "I love Kyle, I really do. I just think you can do better." Stan's eyes grew wide at the hearing of this, and even as he nodded in appreciation he could barely speak. Nodding would do, and Kenny understood.

"Go get him, tiger," Kenny whispered softly, giving his friend a tight hug before opening the door back to the McDonalds restaurant. And seeing Kyle smile at the both of them, still in line, Stan couldn't help but feel much better as he followed the blonde to a table. But despite his newfound happiness, there was still one thing bothering him….

Didn't Kyle say _Kenny_ had been the one to ask _him_?

**XX**

Stan watched with open eyes as Kenny placed the slender object into his mouth. Wrapping his tongue around the tip, the blonde made sure to lap up as much of the white substance as he could; and then, once he couldn't collect any more with his tongue, he began to suck on it, as if expecting to extract more taste in doing so.

After he was done, Kyle tilted his head back in satisfaction. "Wow, that was great," he said, smiling. "Thanks, guys."

"Thanks?" Kenny asked curiously. "No, thank _you_, Kyle… that was an excellent meal."

Kyle turned red as Stan's eyes remained wide-eyed. "Why do you do that?" Stan asked, pointing at the food in front of Kenny." Yeah, that. Why do you eat your fries with mayonnaise?"

"Because it tastes good," the blonde explained. "You know, among other—"

"How the heck did you get mayonnaise anyway?" Stan interjected, not wanting to hear the rest of his sentence. "Do they even serve that?"

Kenny shrugged. "I dunno. I just asked for mayonnaise and they gave it to me." He smiled sheepishly, turning to Kyle. "Thanks for paying for me," he whispered, somewhat embarrassed.

"Nah, don't worry about it," Kyle said, scratching the back of my head. Amongst them occurred a silence, and although the air between them wasn't tense none of the three boys could think of something to say. "Anyway… what were you guys doing earlier?"

"Hm?" asked Stan, snapping himself back to reality. In truth, he had been starting at Kyle—not at his face, but in his direction—for the length of silence they had had. Stan chuckled nervously in an attempt to hide his blunder, and though Kyle seemed to not notice, the same didn't apply with Kenny. "Do what when?"

"Just now, when I was getting the food…." He nudged his head toward the lines of people waiting to order. "Why were you guys in the playground thingy?"

"The Play Place?"

"Yeah, that." There was a moment of silence as Stan and Kenny exchanged glances, but the act didn't pass off too well with the Jewish boy. "Oh no, don't tell me…."

"Nah, we didn't molest or harass any kids." Kenny smiled. "Although Stan almost threw up…."

"What?" Stan exclaimed. "What, no I didn't! I haven't done that since elementary school!"

"Anyway," continued Kenny. "We only went there because Stan was asking me if I was afraid of heights and dared me to go on the tallest slide." At that point Stan would've contested yet again, but a swift stomp of Kenny's foot and Stan knew not to argue.

Kyle shrugged. "I guess… as long as you didn't poison any kids with your perverseness."

"What's so bad about that?" Kenny asked, whispering something into Kyle's ear. From his end of the table Stan watched as the two smiled, laughed, and spoke words he for some reason couldn't quite hear clearly….

It seemed they were talking to him, too….

"Stan!" Kyle exclaimed, and Stan suddenly awoke from his somewhat trance. "Dude, you're spacing out a lot lately…. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, fine…. You guys wanna get going, then?"

**XX**

The ride to the arcade was a lot less lively than their ride to McDonalds. Stan wasn't exactly sure why this was the case, though he didn't mind since the two were still following the rules he had set for his car. Besides, the ride wasn't too long, and the silence wouldn't prove to be too boring….

And then, they were there.

"We're here," Stan announced as they walked through the silver doors to the arcade, and indeed they _were _there. It was a decently-sized building—for a mountain town, at least—but it was still large enough to house many of the arcade games other places would have as well.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Kyle said with a laugh, Kenny rolling his eyes. "Anyway, we need tokens."

"I'll go get some," offered Kenny, but Stan raised a hand.

"Don't worry about it," said Stan, reaching into his pockets. "Here, take what I have now. I'll go buy some for the three of us." He poured a dozen tokens into Kenny's hand, accidentally dropping a couple. "Besides, I don't want you spending money for arcades… don't take it the wrong way or anything."

"'course not," muttered Kenny, but as Stan turned his back Kenny made a sighing boy, stuffing his hands into his empty pockets. Stan gave one smile at Kyle before heading toward the familiar machine, inserting a few coins into it as he pressed a button.

"I've always wondered how many tokens Token's worth," Stan said to himself, giving a laugh as he pocketed his newly acquired tokens.

"Stan…?" For a split second Stan thought it was Token, and in that instant Stan feared the boy might've heard his comment. However his heart felt at ease upon seeing the face of Butters Stotch instead. "Oh, hey, Butters."

"H-hello, Stan," stuttered the blonde. "Stan, can I ask ya somethin'?" And of course, being that Stan still had to exchange coins for tokens, Stan took to listening to the boy. "…she's really pretty," Butters stammered, "and I dunno how to make a good impression—"

"—take her on a date?" Stan suggested. "Though, from elementary school, I doubt she'd go out with you."

"I'm on a date with her now," said Butters.

Stan stared at him, wide-eyed. "…and where's she now?"

"R-restroom." Butters gave his hands a meaningful and nervous rub. "Stan, I-I need your help. The only advice dad gave me was to protect myself before entering the cave, but I ain't going to no stinkin' cave!" At this Stan gave a restrained snort, but Butters assumed it to be a mere cough.

After calming down Stan addressed Butters. "Okay, I'll help you. But I gotta give these tokens to Kenny first." With understanding Butters nodded, accompanying Stan as he returned to Kyle and Kenny. Incidentally the two were at a Hoops game, Kyle's score much higher than Kenny's.

"…goddamnit, why can't I get any?"

"Hey, dude?" Kenny paused to look at Stan. "Here're your tokens. I'm gonna help Butters with his date with Lexus."

Kenny looked at Stan blankly. "You?" He placed the ball in Stan's still open hands. "No offense, but I think I should be the one helping Butters."

"Really?" Butters asked, stammering as he always did. "Aw, gee, thanks!"

"What's going on?" asked Kyle, but he went back to shooting balls instead of waiting for an answer. Stan looked from Kenny to the ball and back, frowning as he shrugged.

"If I can't Butter up a Lexus, no one can!"  
A pause. "Kenny, that makes no fuckin' sense!"

"I know," he said cheekily. "Take care of Kyle for me while I'm gone. Finish up my game… you can play with my balls, though they're a bit rubbery—"

"—just go!" Stan yelled. With one last wave Butters led Kenny around the corner, leaving Stan with Kyle.

"What was that all about?" asked Kyle, who had just entered a "bonus round" for having scored a large amount of points.

"Couldn't tell you," Stan said with a shrug. "When you're done with your game, wanna play again?—you versus me, this time?"

"Deal."

**XX**

Stan had spent the next fifteen minutes in bliss. True, Kyle wasn't exactly his, but it had certainly felt like it. The two laughed like old friends; though they were still friends, the recent tensions had caused them to feel somewhat apart from each other. Yet those tensions disappeared within the moments Stan spent with Kyle at the arcade, and as they hopped from game to game he couldn't have felt happier.

But why had Kenny offered to take Stan's place in aiding Butters with his date? Stan had several theories.

1 – Kenny was being honest when he said he'd do a better job than Stan would at assisting Butters.  
2 – Kenny wanted Stan to do something while he was gone.

Though Stan didn't want to believe the latter, he knew that would be the more likely of the two.

And so, after three successful rounds of DDR, Stan resolved to do what Kenny had suggested earlier in McDonalds.

"…Kyle?" The boy did not respond, however, and he merely stuffed his hands into his pockets in search of more tokens. "Kyle?"

"Don't worry, dude, I still got a few more tokens somewhere."

"No, Kyle, listen to me." Kyle stopped, looked at Stan, and frowned. "I need to tell you something."

Kyle bit his lip for a few seconds, glancing around, before answering. "Okay, cool."

Stan stared; _okay, cool_? What that was supposed to mean, Stan had no idea…. "Cool?"

"Sure, dude." Kyle gave a shrug. "So you have something to tell me, or…?"

"No, I really do…." Stan gulped. How would Stan go about telling Kyle? A direct approach surely wouldn't do—_"Hey, Kyle, I just wanna tell you that I've got a gigantic stiffy for you and I love you more than your current perverted boyfriend and he gave me permission to steal you from him so I can bone you whenever the hell I want… and did I say I love you?"_

…did that even make sense?—Stan could barely tell.

"Anything?" Stan turned to Kyle, who evidently found his lack of a question to be quite entertaining. "If not I'm gonna go find Kenny and see what he's up to."

"No, wait!" Stan pleaded, and as Kyle turned around Stan realized how pathetic he had just sounded… though at this point he really didn't care. "I wanna tell you this while Kenny's not here…."

"Oh?" Kyle raised an eyebrow as Stan struggled for words. "Why?"

"It's just… it's something he wouldn't understand." Of course Stan had been lying, but he wouldn't let Kyle know that…. "You promise you won't tell him?"

"Of course," said Kyle, a little impatience in his voice. "Just say it already, dude." Green eyes met blue briefly as Kyle tried to search his friend, perhaps to find a reason behind his friend's hesitance, but Stan quickly broke eye contact as he began to speak.

"Kyle, I—" but he never got to finish.

"GUYS MISS ME?" roared Kenny's voice from across the arcade, shocking Stan so much he jumped on spot. Kyle waved energetically at the boy and gave him a welcoming hug as he approached. "What'd I miss?"

"Nothing," Stan replied, turning red as he looked to the floor. "Just… nothing." Kenny looked at Stan, smiling even, and as he placed an arm around Kyle he pointed his head over to a few games.

"You still have tokens?" Kenny asked, turning to Kyle. "There're a few good racing games down there, and I know how well you are with sticks…." Kyle gave Kenny a little push, and as the two made their way over Kenny turned to Stan, beckoning him to come.

"Wanna race?" Kyle asked, pointing over to the machine behind his own; but Kenny shook his head.

"I'll just watch, for now." Kyle shrugged, dismissing it as nothing more but a personal choice.

But of course, it was much more than that. "I interrupted at a bad time, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Stan answered, rubbing his head.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Not like you could've done anything." Stan smiled at Kenny, but the blonde boy's face remained apologetic. "How'd Butters's date go?"

"Horribly," Kenny said with a frown. "Ever watch 'Hitch'?"

"Yeah."

"Like that." And with that Stan nodded understandingly. At that moment Kyle had called to Kenny, asking what he and Stan were talking about, but Kenny had only assured him it was about Kyle's performance in his race. "Stan."

"Yeah?"

Kenny cleared his throat. "What you're trying to do… well, it's just another arcade game." Stan looked taken aback, and Kenny continued at the sight of Stan's confused gaze. "The goal's to beat the game, right…? Once you tell him you've beaten the game. But every time you miss an opportunity you gotta put more tokens in and try again."

For a second Stan stared at him, not even hearing Kyle's defeated sigh, nor the sounds of him arising from his seat. With one collected breath, watching Kyle lean on Kenny's shoulder, Stan managed one single sentence: "Kenny, that doesn't make any fuckin' sense!"

And Kenny, smiling, only had one response for him, a response that had Stan staring with bewilderment for minutes after their absence.

"I know."

**XX**

Stan watched it all from his rear-view mirror. He watched Kenny become fascinated with the object in Kyle's lap. He watched as a wide-eyed Kenny reached out a hand, touching the object with his careful fingers, wrapping them so delicately around its neck. Stan stuttered, perhaps in an attempt to remind the blonde of his car rules; but he chose against it, taking more precaution to the road he had been neglecting.

Still, he knew the boy was continuing. "It's so long!" Kenny exclaimed; "and it's not even very hard!"

Kyle gave a chuckle. "I regret to inform you, Kenny McKormick, that it's very difficult to make this object hard, unless subjected to certain situations…."

"I'm sure I could figure out a way," said Kenny smirking, squeezing the object. "'course, it'd involve—"

"Kenny!" Stan exclaimed, coming to a halt in front of Kyle's house. "Seriously, dude!—what'd I say about innuendos?" With a twist of a key the engine shuts off, three boys climbing out of the car shortly afterward. "Just because you won a plush giraffe for Kyle…."

"I like it though," Kyle said with a smile, "even if it's a bit… random."

"It reminds me of you though," Kenny said with a smirk, ignoring Kyle's frowning face. "Reminds me of how long you are…."

Stan shook his head as Kyle scoffed. "So thinking of giraffes makes you hot?"

Kenny affirmed the statement. "Horny, too." Kyle laughed as he searched in the dark for his key, Kenny standing somewhat close to him. Stan stood several feet back, making motions suggesting his leave; but every time he'd turn around to do so he'd end up right back to where he started.

"I think… I should be getting home now," said Stan, fiddling with his car keys.

"You don't wanna stay over for a bit?" Kyle asked, frowning. "It's Friday night—Saturday morning, if you're as technical as Ike. You can even sleep over if you want."

"No thanks," said Stan. "I'm—"

"Sleep over!" Kenny said enthusiastically. However, as Stan glanced at Kenny, he couldn't help but to notice a small glint in the boy's eye, almost suggesting….

"Fine," Stan said with a defeated sigh, and Kenny gave him something along the lines of a congratulatory handshake. At that moment Kyle managed to open the door, and he allowed his two guests to step through before himself. It was dark, as they had expected it to be—but they were not alone.

"Ike!" Kyle scolded his brother in a hushed whisper. "Ike, what're you doing up still? You should've been in bed hours ago."

Ike looked up from his Calculus book, frowning. "You should've been home hours ago."

"I think he's got you there, dude," remarked Kenny, glancing around. Then, after a few moments, he added: "Where can I set my stuff?"

"Hm?—oh, over there's fine." He pointed to the top of the stairs and Kenny followed. "Ike, go to sleep now. Don't you have to be at the airport early tomorrow?"

"Yeah," his brother replied, "but I barely sleep anyway. Besides, ma said to wait for you to come home… she wasn't very happy, let me tell you." Kyle stifled a laugh, shrugging as he began trudging his way up the stairs. Stan frowned, wondering where Ike might be going off the next day; but instead decided to follow him.

However, as he neared the top of the stairs, he felt a slight tap upon his shoulder, and turning he found the face of Ike once more. "Follow me," Ike mouthed, and Stan understood.

As soon as Stan and Ike were fully inside Ike's room the latter of the two closed the door, turning to Stan. "I know your secret," he said.

Stan blinked. "What?"

"I know your secret," Ike repeated, tapping his foot. Stan only continued to stare at the younger boy. Surely he wasn't talking about…? But then, if he was, how did he figure out so easily…? "Trust me, it wasn't hard to figure out, either."

"What secret?" Stan asked. "Are you sure we're talking about the same thing?"

"The one that involves my brother?—yeah, we're definitely talking about the same thing." Stan sighed nervously, turning to the posters in Ike's room. Suddenly the ACDC poster on his wall seemed quite interesting to him…. "You and my brother… you guys are like twins, really."

"Oh?" asked Stan, raising and eyebrow. "How so?"

"You both hide secrets," Ike said simply. "Not to mention you both do so in a poor manner."

"Kyle has secrets?" Stan asked, and after searching his face Ike realized the boy was being completely honest. Twins as they might've been, the younger boy realized that though they were similar… they weren't the same.

"I thought you would've known that already… but then, that wouldn't have made any sense at all if you did." Ike shook his head confusedly as Stan merely gaped at him, and after a few seconds of this Ike jerked his head back up to meet Stan's eye. "Well, in that case, I should probably just wait for you to figure his secret out yourself."

"Why?" Stan asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You can't just tell me?"

"Kyle doesn't realize that I know his secret," Ike said matter-of-factly. "As neither did you, until just now." Ike placed a hand on the doorknob, Stan's gaze returning once more to the ACDC poster.

"So then… why'd you call me here?" The question barely had any courage behind it, yet even without the confidence Stan somehow managed to leave an impression on Ike's face. Seeing Ike's raised eyebrow, Stan continued. "I mean… that's not the only reason you called me into your room, right?"

Ike smiled. "Finally, you're becoming at least a _bit_ observant to what's around you." Ike gave a quieted laugh and then continued. "Actually, based on what I've noticed… you seem to be getting ready to do something… something you're nervous about?"

Stan nodded. "I want to confess to Kyle."

Ike bit his lip, a reaction Stan had somewhat expected. "But he's dating Kenny, isn't he? At least, the way Kenny's got his hands over my brother, I would've thought so."

"Kyle didn't tell you?" Stan asked, and Ike shook his head. Though, now that Stan thought about it, Kyle probably didn't even need to tell him, knowing his brother would've already figured him out…. "Kenny's always like that, though. Molests him, throws innuendos whenever he can…."

"You still didn't understand me," snapped Ike. "You're doing this knowing Kyle's already got a boyfriend?"

"Yeah. Kenny's actually encouraging me to fess up." He laughed, though Ike's wide eyes told him the younger boy didn't feel the same way.

"Stan, don't you think—"

"—that Kenny might be out of his mind by giving me the chance to steal his boyfriend? Sure, I think so. But if Kenny's already given me the opportunity…." From outside the door they could hear Kyle calling for Stan, and Stan wondered if Kyle even took into account that his sleeping parents wouldn't appreciate the yelling…. "That'd be Kyle."

"I know," Ike said. "Anyway, I'm gonna be off to a national mathematics convention tomorrow—"

"—no surprise, there."

"—but I wish you all the best with your… mission." Ike laughed at the word. "Do it soon, though. Something tells me the longer you wait, the longer he's going to… well, never mind."

"Going to what?" Stan asked, begging for the rest of the sentence; but Ike only smiled cheekily at him and pushed him out the door. He bit his lip; Ike knew something he didn't, that damned genius….

"STAN!" and with a laugh Stan turned to the Jewish boy, holding a finger to his mouth. "Sorry, it's just… where've you been?"

Stan hesitated, thinking perhaps if he should tell the truth, but decided against it. "Just looking at Ike's poster… ACDC is a really good band; have you heard of them?"

**XX**

The three boys fell asleep rather quickly that night (in Ike's technicality, that morning). Stan didn't mind sleeping on the floor, since he was quite used to it from all the sleepovers he had had with Kyle; but Kenny's fake moaning didn't exactly help him or the dreams he would potentially have.

Needless to say, as Stan was just about to go down on Kyle (in his dream, of course), a well-aimed smack across the face (with a pillow) saved Stan from any more embarrassment.

Though still, he had a few moments to deal with still, and as he followed Kyle's bemused glance downward, Stan found himself turning a deep red. "Eh…."

"Everyone gets it, dude… don't worry about it." Kyle gave a childish laugh as he fell over. "You're in a room full of guys! What the hell are you getting a boner for?"

"N—no reason," stammered Stan, but Kyle would not take it.

"_Dude_, don't tell me Kenny's moans were turning you on?" Kyle cracked up all the more as Stan was forced to remain in his beet-red state. "Hm… I _suppose_ Kenny's moaning might've sounded like Wendy's."

Stan bit his lip; Kyle probably thought Stan was still chasing after Wendy… or maybe even some other girl. Even though he had resolved to confess his feelings for Kyle, Stan figured that perhaps telling Kyle now wasn't the best of choices…. "Dude, I don't like Wendy!"

"Of course you don't," said Kyle, laughing. But soon even that laughter died out, and the two were left in silence.

'_Do it now!_' something in the back of his mind was telling him, though Stan wasn't paying much attention to the voice. Somehow, no matter what the situation would end up being, Stan had the impression that Kenny would interrupt them when he least wanted him to….

Speaking of which…. "Where's Kenny?"

"He said he was gonna take a long shower and then go eat breakfast," said Kyle, looking as if he were pulling the sentence directly from memory. "He emphasized the "long shower" part, and said something like how you could probably do something important while he was gone."

Stan laughed; Kenny, without a doubt, had inserted that specifically at him. The boy sighed, smiled sheepishly, and turned away. "Something important, huh?"

"Yeah." Kyle sighed. "He probably doesn't get to shower much at his place…. I suppose he has a reason to take a long shower." Stan chuckled, but that died quickly. He felt his heart beating—it was now or never… almost.

Gulping, Stan cleared his throat. "Actually, Kyle, I _do_ have something important to do."

"Oh?" asked Kyle, but his expression quickly changed. "Okay, dude. Go at it; I won't stop you."

"Well, yeah, see… it kinda involves you…." Stan rubbed his head as Kyle heaved a sigh. "I mean, if that's—"

"—nah, dude, I get you." And with wide eyes Stan stared at his friend. "This is the thing you wanted to tell me yesterday, isn't it?" Stan could barely manage a nod. "Thought so. Okay then, dude. Spill."

"Spill…?" echoed Stan, though he had more than clearly heard him the first time. Yet even as Kyle affirmed his sentence, encouraging him to continue, too many things were running through Stan's mind:

1 – It wasn't the way Stan had imagined it to be; he had expected there to be tension, and though there indeed was some, it was almost as if Kyle already knew what Stan had to say, as if he was just waiting for Stan to get it over with already….  
2 – The discrepancy between Kyle's story and Kenny's story, and how Kyle had lied… though, now that Stan thought about it, maybe Kenny had been the one who lied…. After all, there wasn't anything solid about who told the truth—only that they contradicted each other, and one of them had to be wrong.  
3 – The incident with Ike the night before, how Ike had figured out one of Kyle's secrets… one that involved him, evidently, or else Ike wouldn't have pulled Stan aside….

Bracing his head, raising both hands to support the flow of thoughts swimming aimlessly in his mind, Stan found himself unable to concentrate any longer; he found his mouth opening, but he struggled for what to say.

"W—why… why did you lie to me?"

And then, silence. Stan had closed his mouth immediately; he hadn't meant to say that when he had first started. Hell, Stan was supposed to tell Kyle something, not ask him something (which was probably irrelevant to begin with)! But, as Stan turned away (there was no ACDC poster to turn to his time), he knew he couldn't un-ask the question.

Inside Stan cursed at himself.

"Lie…?" Kyle echoed, looking at Stan's face—or at least, as much as Stan would show him. "Lie? About what?"

"About… you said… you said Kenny asked you out?"

"He did," answered Kyle, but worry grew on his face."

"That's the thing," Stan said, biting his lip. "Kenny said you—" and even though the two were interrupted Kyle knew what Stan had been about to say. Still, as the two caught glances for even the slightest second Kyle's face showed no recognition, only causing Stan to curse at both himself and their unexpected visitor.

"Breakfast is ready!" Kenny exclaimed from the doorway, clad with only a towel and a wide smile. "Your mom made non-kosher food!"

"Great!" Kyle said with much enthusiasm—though, as Stan knew, the boy already didn't follow the eating diets his parents did. "I hope she's cooked eggs, at least."

"She made sausage and eggs," Kenny informed matter-of-factly. "But don't you dare play with my sausage, Kyle!" Kyle laughed, heading out of the room as quickly as he could (probably to avoid answering Stan's question).

Stan sighed, shaking his head. "Do you always have to keep doing that, Ken?"

"What?" Kenny asked innocently. "You mean my innuendos? You know I couldn't survive without those, dude."

"No, not that."

"What, then?" Kenny laughed. "Long showers? The sex with Kyle, man… had to wash it all off. He had no lube either, so I had to jack it with shampoo…." Kenny barely caught the scowl under Stan's breath, but the boy's facial expression was enough to tell him he had gotten it wrong yet again. "Well?"

"You interrupting," Stan said slowly. "It's like you're saving Kyle or something."

"Maybe I am?" Kenny said with a grin, walking out of the room. "Come on, Stan, breakfast!"

"Then why the hell are you encouraging me if you're helping Kyle avoid—"

But he stopped his sentence. Kenny wasn't listening, anyway.


	5. All that work, for THIS?

5: All that work, for THIS?

"You know, Stan, you're really doing me a _big_ favor, letting me ride (with) you every morning before school…." Kenny smiled, squeezing Stan's thigh.

"Dude, can you not do that?" protested Stan, though whimpering at the touch. "I'm trying to concentrate, here."

Kenny smirked. "I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I were Kyle." Stan choked. "But see, I've got a problem… even if you're doing me a _big_ favor by letting me ride (with) you, it always seems… well, boring. For me, at least."

"I'm giving you everything I've got to offer," Stan said with a frown.

"Can't you make my ride a lot more interesting?"

"No." With that Kenny frowned, sinking back into his own seat as Stan continued to drive to Kyle's house. Oh, how he hated school nowadays…. "Kenny, can I ask you something?"

"Only if you make my rides more fun," had been Kenny's defiant reply. "_Please_?"

Stan sighed. "Fine. Now can I ask my question?"

"I'm all yours."

"Okay, well—ew Kenny that was _not_ called for." Kenny laughed, but Stan merely shook his head and continued. "Remember what I asked you last Saturday?—at Kyle's house?"

Kenny frowned. "Not really, dude. But, knowing you, I'm sure it had something to do with Kyle."

"Actually, no." There was a pause. "It was about how you kept interrupting me just when I had gotten somewhere with him."

"Oh… that." He chuckled nervously as Stan slowed the car; he'd need the extra time to weed things out of Kenny, and they weren't in a rush to get to school, anyway.

"So… _are_ you purposely interrupting me?" Kenny said nothing; his frown twisted into a half-smile, and he let out a low laugh as he cast an uneasy glance at his driver. "Well?"

"Don't look at me like that," muttered Kenny, taking in Stan's shell-shocked face.

"Just give me an answer, Kenny…."

Kenny sighed. "Put it this way, Stanley Marsh. I gave you my word, didn't I?"

"I… I guess so." Stan grumbled under his breath. "It's just… it's just that…."

"Just what, exactly?"

Stan could not answer him.

"Why'd you keep interrupting me, then?" Stan's voice was fearful, so pathetically so that Kenny had to struggle in keeping a straight face. "It's like you _knew_ when to come into our conversation."

"Not intentionally, dude," breathed Kenny with exasperation. "I was on the other side of the fucking arcade, dude! It's not like I obtained super-hearing when I died." Kenny sighed, looking at Stan; from the boy's face it was almost as if Stan _had_ believed that Kenny had acquired some sort of power…. "Let me make myself clear some, okay?"

"Sure," muttered Stan, turning away from Kenny.

"Stan, I—Stan, _look_ at me!" and he forced Stan's face to face his own, consequently forcing Stan to stop the car. "Stan, I really meant it when I said I thought you loved Kyle more than I did. I _do_ want you to have a chance with Kyle, even if it means losing everything I have with him now, only because I know he'd be much happier with you."

Stan frowned; to him, for some reason, it felt like this scene had been pulled straight out of some soap opera…. "I dunno, dude, he looks pretty happy with you." Stan turned to the road once more and pressed the gas—they were only a few hours away, now…. "You swear, dude? You swear you really want me to confess to Kyle… and that this isn't some sort of sick joke of yours?"

"I swear it." The two sighed in the silence, smiles forming on both of their faces. Stan was feeling particularly content and relieved now, but there was still one thing he wanted to ask…. "Ken… would you happen to know if Kyle's keeping any secrets from me?"

Kenny's eyes grew wide, but he turned away quickly before Stan could see his face. "W—what makes you t—think that, dude?"

Stan could feel his heart beating faster; did Kenny know something? "Ike was trying to tell me something about it," Stan said slowly. "He said we both had secrets we were trying to keep away from each other."

Kenny raised an eyebrow. "Everyone has secrets, dude." The car pulled to a halt in front of Kyle's house. "Even if Kyle does have a secret… it wouldn't be abnormal, would it?"

"But we're best friends!"

"—so? Best friends don't know _everything_ about each other." In the distance the two could see Kyle locking his door. "Although, hypothetically, if Kyle _did_ have a secret, it'd be easier than you think."

"Huh?" asked Stan absentmindedly, who had been gazing at Kyle and not paying attention. "Easier than I think?—you mean Kyle's secret?"

Kenny snorted. "No, of _course_ not," he replied, voice full of sarcasm. "I meant Kyle. He's easier than you think."

**XX**

Stan was anxious for the bell to ring for several reasons:

1 – Now that he knew Kenny was on his side, Stan wanted to ask the blonde for advice on how to properly approach Kyle and confess to him without seeming like a complete R-tard.  
2 – Stan had a sudden urge to get the whole ordeal done and over with, and throughout the course of the first half of the school day Stan had resolved to confess to Kyle, regardless if Stan could consult Kenny beforehand.  
3 – Stan found his current class to be quite boring, and Stan knew that if his teacher's voice continued to drone on as it did, he'd surely fall asleep.  
4 – His stomach grumbled at the thought of lunch, and the ringing of the bell would give Stan a chance to satisfy his hunger.

…and that list continued to grow, all until the bell, in fact, _did_ ring.

He found a seat at the table they always sat at, burying his head in his arms as he waited for the lunch lines to shorten. How exactly was he going to confront Kyle; Stan had no idea. He only hoped he could do it soon….

Stan was so deep in thought that he hadn't heard Kyle and Kenny arrive at his table.

"…so you want top or bottom, then?" Kenny was saying—and without a doubt Stan's ears had tuned into their conversation.

"…can't I have both?"

"I guess, though it's kinda _hard_…. Do you want top first, or bottom first?" Stan frowned, raising his head to see what was really going on between the two. "Oh, hey Stan."

"Hey, Ken." Stan gave a wave. "What're you talking about?"

"What's it sound like?" Kenny asked with a smirk, chuckling afterward.

Kyle seemed not so pleased. "Kenny won't give me back the pajamas I let him borrow."

"I didn't say I wouldn't give it to you," Kenny snapped. "I just wanted to know if you wanted (the) top or (the) bottom first."

A wink was all Kyle needed to relent. "Fine, bottom."

"Good," replied Kenny, smirking. "I really hate catching…." Kenny laughed as Kyle rolled his eyes, the two taking a seat on either side of Stan.

"Anyone see Cartman?" Stan asked, looking around.

Kenny had been the one to answer, though with disinterest. "Detention."

"I see." A silence fell amongst them as Kyle took a bite out of am unappetizing sandwich. "Kyle, you already had English today, right?"

"Yeah, dude," had been Kyle's reply. "How'd you find that test?"

Stan groaned. "Terrible, dude, I bombed it. I was so stressed about that free-response that by the time I finished it I forgot the whole back page."

"Really?" asked Kyle, his face with shock. "Dude, that's not like you at all?—that's something I'd expect outta Kenny, not you!"  
"—hey!"  
"—sorry."

Stan sighed; in truth it had nothing to do with fretting over a short-answer question…. The cause of his absentmindedness, without much surprise, was due to his worrying over his situation with Kyle.

…it had only just occurred to Stan what might happen if Kyle still rejected him. He had been quite excited in the light of Kenny's support, and he had barely given thought to the possibility of Kyle choosing Kenny over himself….

"Stan?"—and Stan was brought back to the present. "Dude, you sorta… blanked out for a second, there. You okay?"

"'course."

"Doesn't look like it," retorted Kenny, surprising Stan somewhat; he had completely forgotten Kenny had taken a seat on his other side… he had half-expected Kenny to sit with his boyfriend….

…unless he was encouraging Stan?

"I'm okay. _Really_."

Kyle sighed. "Fine, I believe you." A moment of silence. "Stan, aren't you gonna eat something?"

"What?" Stan asked absentmindedly… again. "What?—oh yeah."

Stan stood up, but Kyle halted him. "Before you go—"

"—I'm fine, really!"

"No, not that," and Stan quieted. "Do you think… you think you could drop off Kenny first today?" His voice trembled slightly as he spoke—at least, in Stan's opinion—and as Stan tried to read the boy's face Kyle flashed him a hopeful smile.

"Why?" Kyle's smile vanished. "Your house is on the way; it's so much easier to drop you off, first."

"Well…." Kyle was lost for words. "Well, I—"

"—he needs to pick up his pajamas," interjected Kenny. Stan glanced between the two boys; now that Stan thought about it, the occasion would probably give him a chance to finally confess to Kyle….

"Okay, dude. You gotta remind me though—I might forget."

**XX**

Stan was anxious for the bell to ring for several reasons:

1 –Stan wanted to ask the blonde before they split ways for advice on how to properly approach Kyle and confess to him.  
2 – Stan had a sudden urge to get the whole ordeal done and over with, and throughout the course of the second half of the school day Stan had resolved to confess to Kyle before he got to Kyle's house, regardless if Stan could consult Kenny beforehand.  
3 – Stan found his current class to be quite boring, and Stan knew that if his teacher's voice continued to drone on as it did, he'd surely fall asleep.  
4 – Eric Cartman sat beside him. Enough said.

…and that list continued to grow, but the bell did not ring.

"Pst, Stan!" Stan chose to ignore him, staring profusely at the whiteboard. Oh how pretty those red and blue and green lines looked… oh wait—were those _words_? "Stan?"

It was only when Cartman punched Stan in the side when Stan reacted. "_What_?" Stan hissed in an irritated whisper, but Cartman only nudged at a scribbled sheet of paper on Stan's desk.

_You're such a fag, dude.  
Not only do you like guys  
but you also let other guys take your guy.  
Being a pussy-wuss _and_ a fag is worse than  
a homosexual Jew, you know. _

Stan could only glare at Cartman after he finished. "What the hell?"

Cartman lowered his head. "You like Kahl, Stan…. Let's face it. We both know it."

"What makes you think that?"

Cartman looked around, mostly just to make sure their teacher wasn't around; she was at her desk, sleeping, as she always did within the last five minutes of class. "You've been gay for each other since preschool, Stan. And like, seriouslah?—you always stuck up for each other, you were always by his side, always protecting him—"

"—I was his best friend, Cartman."

"More like best butt buddeh." Cartman shook his head. "I like you, Stan, more than that goddamn Jew—"

"—don't call him that—"

"—so don't go sinking to his level." There was a moment of silence between the two. "Got that?"

"Not really," muttered Stan. "I don't know what you mean by 'sinking to his level'—" but before Cartman could reply the bell had rung, Stan being quite quick in jumping out of his seat. "Besides, according to you, I'm already worse than he is."

Stan left without another word.

**XX**

The ride to Kenny's house seemed longer than ever, and waiting for Kenny to return the pajamas seemed even longer.  
But it wouldn't be long now, Stan knew…. It was time to face his fears.

**XX**

"Wanna come in?" The question had been so sudden that, being as Stan was so lost in his own train of thought, Stan had looked at Kyle as if it had been a forbidden question to ask.

"Wha?"

"Come… inside… like, you wanna get outta your car and stay awhile?"

"I don't…" but suddenly a light bulb seemed to appear somewhere inside his brain. He hadn't confessed to Kyle yet, being the dunce he was, but if he took his offer…. "Sure, I'll stay." And smiling, Kyle led him inside the house. "Where can I…?"

"Anywhere's fine," Kyle replied. Stan nodded, putting his book bag near his shoes—he should've left it in his car, but Stan had had too much things going through his head to think about that. "Ike's not back from his convention thingy and parents aren't home." He flopped himself on a chair. "Wanna watch TV?"

"Sure," and with that Stan took a seat next to him.

For the next hour—or was it even an hour?—the two watched television in silence, staring with awe as the top ten game plays of the day were recounted, laughing as they watched RealTV, and raised their eyebrows toward Barney's 2500th episode. Stan had already anticipated Kyle's change of channels—perhaps to watch Red Racer, or even Terrance and Philip—when he instead found the television being shut off.

"Stan?" and in the silence of the room Stan had no choice but to reply. "I was just thinking… I wanted to apologize."

"Oh?" Stan asked, raising an eyebrow. Apologize for what? Many theories were running through his mind, and he was praying to Jesus—and all his super best friends—that it turned out for the better. "F—for what?"

"For… ostracizing you the past few days." Stan frowned. "Like, when I was with Kenny… I think I might've forgotten you were with us half the time… so I wanted to apologize for… you know… ignoring you."

"You didn't ignore me," Stan said with a laugh, though it quickly faded. "I understand, dude. You were just… happy with… him… that's all." It was painful for Stan to say, but it was the truth… wasn't it?

_Now or never_, Stan thought to himself, and he knew it better than his conscience did. But he barely even knew how it was going to happen, _what_ was going to happen…. Stan was scared. "K—Kyle?"

"You're not mad at me, are you?"

"No, not at all, but…." Stan bit his lip and shut his eyes tightly. "I'vegotsomethingtoaskyou."

"You've got a what?" asked Kyle confusedly, and Stan reluctantly clarified himself. "I know, dude."

"You do?"

"'course," Kyle said smugly. "You've been meaning to say it for a while, haven't you? Unless it was that thing about lying, in which case I really don't—"

"Not that," interrupted Stan, and he returned to being downcast once more. In truth that somewhat had to do with it, but…. "It's what I wanted to tell you… for a while now, actually."

Kyle made no reply. Stan almost feared that Kyle already knew what he was going to say, and worst-case scenarios were already forming in the back of his mind. But he couldn't back out now… and there was no Kenny to interrupt.

A deep breath. A sigh. Another deep breath. Then, a confession.

"I… like… you…." Very unconfidently, but he had said it. He found himself relaxing, though his mind was still completely in fear, and as he continued to stare at the television he found the strength to repeat himself, this time a little louder. "I like you, dude, and I've… liked you for a while now."

There was a painful silence between the two now, and Stan refused to look at Kyle. Seconds passed as minutes, minutes as hours, and he wasn't sure how long he could keep ignoring Kyle….

He wanted an answer. He _wanted_ an answer, and even though he wished it was to his favor he couldn't handle the unnerving silence between them.

He turned to Kyle.

Kyle was smiling.

Kyle was _smiling_! At him!

"Really, _that's_ what you've been meaning to tell me?" Kyle said with a bemused expression, and for a moment Stan's euphoria died.

"You mean…?"

"Yeah, dude!" said Kyle, laughing loud enough for eavesdroppers outside the house to hear. "About time!"

"About… about time?" stammered Stan, but before he could get a response from Kyle the garage door sounded. He turned to Kyle once more, who was already standing up from his seated position. "Kyle?"

"Parents are home," Kyle said with an apologetic smile. "Gotta go greet them, you know?"

"But you can't just _leave_ me like this?" pleaded Stan, looking down. "What the hell's '_about time_' supposed to mean?"

Kyle chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose I _do_ owe you an explanation, don't I…?" Stan nodded profusely, as if it had been a stupid question to ask. "Well, I'll… I'll give you one later. But seriously, my mom gets pissed if I don't greet her when she gets home, so… it'll have to wait, k?"

"Sure… I s'pose." Stan nodded reluctantly and, as he watched Kyle turn the corner, chose to do the same.

**XX**

However, Kyle never told Stan his reasoning—or at least, not that night—for several reasons.

1 – Kyle never got the "opportunity."  
2 – Kyle's mom consistently found reasons for Kyle to be occupied, and Kyle refused to talk while he was doing chores.  
3 – Kyle's parents were quite the talkers during dinnertime, and Kyle found no opportunity to let slip even the smallest comment to Stan.  
4 – Kyle's mom wouldn't let Stan sleepover because it was a weekday—though, as Stan realized on the drive home, that hadn't really mattered to her before.

Stan figured he could probably wait a day or so….

"Good evening, Stan," greeted his mother, but Stan took no notice. _About time…_? What was that supposed to mean…? Was Kyle already expecting such an answer…? "Stan, are you okay?"

But Stan only continued in climbing the stairs. Why was Kyle so happy, though? Didn't he even think about Kenny?—did _about time_ even mean Kyle liked Stan back too? Or maybe….

"Turd," and at the sound Stan lifted his head. There, in front of her, stood his sister. "Get outta my way or I'll beat your ass with grandpa's walking stick."

"Too tired," mumbled Stan, and he willingly let her pass. He waited momentarily for her to pass, but it seemed she wouldn't move. "Hurry up already…."

_Yeah… about time_…. "You're not yourself."

"Like you're the one to notice," snapped Stan halfheartedly. _Really, that's what you've been meaning to tell me…?_

"I'm your psychopath sister, Stan. That doesn't mean I won't notice when my brother responds differently to one of my threats." _I know, dude…_ Kyle had known for a while already….

With an irritated sigh Stan took to finishing the flight of stairs, barely acknowledging Shelley's gaze as he passed. He pushed into his door, frowned, then turned the doorknob, and _then _pushed into his door once more; he collapsed on his bed with a thud, staring into the ceiling as he frowned.

Had Kyle… had he made those excuses earlier to avoid an explanation?—but why were Stan's hopes so high up? Kyle already had Kenny, after all….

He didn't hear his door creaking open as he stared at the dots above him. Kenny probably told Kyle what Stan was going to confess… yeah, that was it. How else would he have known what Stan was about to say? Surely it hadn't been because of all the times he had tried before…?

Maybe it _was_ just another arcade game… maybe Kenny was right. Indeed, Stan had to keep trying, but… maybe the "tokens" had been Kenny depositing a few bits of information into Kyle's mind?

He was almost positive now that Kenny had told him. His mind searched for other possibilities, but his search came without results. It couldn't have been his failed attempts; it was like Kyle already knew he liked him, and in all his failed attempts… well, in those futile tries he had barely leaked anything….

"Stan," muttered a voice, but Stan paid no attention. What would his sister know about the matter, anyway?—she was just a heartless girl who happened to be related to him. She had had boyfriends, sure, but… this was surely different.

His mind, now positive this had all been Kenny's doings, switched to others matters. What of Kyle's response? He badly wanted to believe that Kyle liked him back, but the odds were all against him. Why would Kyle like him, of all people? Sure, the straight issue was no problem, but at the same time… Kyle already had someone. Even if Kyle did like him… he wouldn't so easily leave Kenny for him, would he?

But then, Kenny _had_ said he'd be willing to lose Kyle to him… which made no sense to Stan, now that he was thinking about it. What boyfriend in their right mind would give up his relationship with another person? Sure, maybe he _was_ Kenny McKormick, who probably thought he could find someone else if he tried, but… it seemed a little fishy now.

Unless… Kenny told Kyle that view too, along with everything else?

"It's about Kyle, isn't it?" and at that moment Stan chose to glance at his sister. She was more observant and persistent than he thought… though, as Stan finally managed to recall, she _did_ help him twice with the issue….

Stan was grateful for her therapy sessions.

"I told Kyle," Stan mumbled quietly, so quietly that Shelley asked him to repeat. "I told him I liked him, and… I dunno how to think of his response."

"I thought you guys were already boyfriends?" she said, chuckling. Stan's expression, however, told her to stop. "What'd you mean by 'think of his response'?"

"After I told him… well, he said something like '_about time_' and started grinning madly." Stan sighed, still staring at the ceiling. "I don't get it."

"He was smiling, wasn't he?" Shelley frowned. "I'd take that as him accepting your confession."

"Yeah, but does _he_ like me?" Shelley gave no reply. "That's what I wanna know. I've been looking to this point for so freaking long, and now… I don't know."

Shelley smiled apologetically, muttering something he couldn't hear. "The way it sounds to me, I can't tell if he likes you or not. For all you know he could've accepted your confession and still not like you." She made her way to the door. "Maybe you should just stick with being friends, Stan. The two of you are nearly boyfriends anyway, the way you two snuggle against each other when you share a bed."

Stan turned red, though he still remained staring at the ceiling. "We do not—"

But Shelley chose to ignore him. "Anyway, _turd_, don't lose sleep over it. I hope you feel better soon… so that I can go back to threatening you and making it worth my time."

For once, Stan laughed. "Okay, I will."

**XX**

Stan woke up the next morning to a start.

His alarm was ringing, but he had woken up a few minutes before—yet it still rang. The sounds of an irritated Shelley could be heard, even from inside his room, but still the alarm didn't turn off.

It was only after a good three minutes when Stan emerged from his closet, using a spare hand to silence the alarm. With much trouble he pulled on a sweatshirt, and once that was finished he reentered his closet to find a good pair of jeans.

He'd do it that morning, on the car ride. He had more courage this time, of course, since this time he knew what he wanted out of Kyle, what he wanted to happen…. Even thinking about the plan made him happy, how he had finally done something on his own, _without_ Kenny.

Yet he still had to worry about getting ready for school. And oddly enough, that seemed to be a harder task.

Still, he managed to get ready on time, and before long he found himself prancing down the stairs, almost literally. He was quite excited, partly because of his plan, but also because he needed a feeling to wash down the anxiety he was also feeling, a nervousness of perhaps finally getting the truth out of the situation.

"I'm leaving!" Stan yelled, and as he caught his sister at the garage he gave her a thumbs-up sign. Who would've thought that for once she would be supportive of something he did?—Stan definitely hadn't seen that coming. Still, it felt nice to know that at least someone was on his side, at the same level of knowledge as he was….

He exited the driveway and drove off in the opposite direction. He'd be picking up Kyle first, today, even though his gas tank wouldn't be too happy….

Kyle was surprised to see Stan in front of his house that early.

"Where's Kenny?" Kyle asked as he peered into the car. "Not here?"

"I still have to get him," Stan replied, and he noticed Kyle's smile fall. "Problem?"

"No, not at all…." He climbed into the front seat. "So, how's your morning so far?"

"Good," replied Stan, and the car fell into silence. Now that Stan thought about it, the two had never really had a proper conversation in his car, ever since he offered to drive Kenny…. With a sigh he pulled away, driving off to Kenny's house at a particularly slow pace—the same pace he had used when wanting to talk to Kenny for an extended period.

Kyle noticed this and asked him about it, but Stan only shrugged. "Wanna take my time?" Stan said as his excuse, and they traveled in silence for a bit longer. Any moment now he'd have to ask the question… waiting was no longer worth it…. "So…."

"So." Another silence. "You think that Mr. Ad—"

"I'm confused," interjected Stan, and Kyle found the rest of his own sentence coming to a halt. "I want to know something, Kyle."

"What?"

"I want to know… well, everything, really." Stan sighed, the car driving all the slower. "What'd you mean by '_about time_'?" Kyle did not respond; he stared out the window, his eyes lingering upon each house they passed, and though Stan wanted to observe his behavior he forced himself to look back at the road… occasionally. "Well?"

"Stan…." Kyle gulped. "Stan, I've got a confession to make of my own."

"I know," Stan said lightly.

"You do?" Kyle asked aloud, but Stan remained silent; he decided not to tell him about Ike's suspicions. "But anyway, uh… I've kinda… known you liked me for a while."

"Oh?" Stan asked, some part of his conclusion coming true. "It sounded like that. But then…?"

"Lemme talk for a while," Kyle said, turning to Stan. "I'll let you talk afterwards."

"Okay." Kyle sighed, and then continued. "I liked you too… I mean, I've liked you for a while, but I was so unsure that you'd like me at all, especially since you're always so obsessed with one day getting back with Wendy. And then… I decided to tell you that I liked you, though I didn't say who I liked specifically, because I wasn't even sure if you'd accept me for not liking a girl.

"And then you said you said that you liked someone, so that gave me hope. And then, you had this genius idea." Stan raised an eyebrow at this, and Kyle only smiled. "You told me I should try doing things to see if the person I liked would return my feelings…. So then, I tried… doing _stuff_, but I guess they weren't really enough for you to see."

"But then… I dunno, I was going a little paranoid, not knowing if things would work out if I decided to ask you. I leaked to you that I liked guys, hoping you'd say something that'd make me feel better, but nothing like that happened. You just accepted it so freely, and though I found out you'd accept me, I didn't feel… ready to tell you.

"But then you asked me who I liked, and I panicked. So I… I dunno, Stan, I was so afraid of telling you that I made something up out of the blue. And then… this idea hit me. It was what you were saying before, to do things to make the person you like notice, and so… I thought that if I said I liked someone _other_ than you, maybe you'd show some signs of jealousy. So, I told you I liked Kenny. But then I think I went too far with my idea, and I also told you we were dating."

"So you _weren't_ seeing him yet?" asked Stan in disbelief, and Kyle affirmed the question.

"So then we had our little talk, and I was… sorta making things up along the way. And then you told me about this Pete kid—"

"There's no Pete kid," Stan said, completely forgetting about the person he had made up. "That was me…."

"Oh." A pause. "Well, when you were telling me about him I told you he could keep trying to have me. I still liked you Stan, but… I was scared I'd given up any chance of having you. So I left a hint, in case you'd take it as a chance to still try and have me, if you even _did _like me back."

"You got lucky," muttered Stan, who had apparently forgotten Kyle's request to keep quiet. "I _did_ like you."

Kyle didn't seem to mind the interruptions. "As soon as I could I went to Kenny and told him my situation, and I guess I… sorta got lucky that you hadn't talked to him yet. I wasn't really expecting him to play along with the story—I only asked him to make a scene and to pretend he was breaking up with me. You know, just so you'd see me as available, and that you'd see my being available as a chance to act… so I wouldn't have to myself.

"And then he asked me why I told you we were dating in the first place, and I explained that too… and then, that's when he got this idea." Stan's car stopped in front of Kenny's house, looking at Kyle with curiosity; in the distance they could see Kenny making their way toward the car.

"Well?"

"Kenny had this idea that… well, I guess he could tell you himself." And with that Kenny opened the door to the backseat, exclaiming a rather loud morning greeting to the both of them.

"So, Kenny," Stan said as soon as they had exchanged greetings. "Kyle's telling me about this idea of yours."

Kenny's eyes grew wide, but after a few seconds he collected himself. "My idea… about having a threesome with you two?"

Now it was Stan's eyes to grow wide, but Kyle only shook his head. "We're being serious here, Kenny. He knows everything, he confessed everything yesterday. Your idea worked."

Kenny raised an eyebrow. "Well, good, I knew it would."

"But what _was_ the idea?" Stan asked with an irritated voice.

Kenny laughed. "It wasn't really my idea, dude. It was Kyle's; he said he told you he was seeing me to make you jealous, but he had this crazy idea of making me pretend to "break up" with him so you'd see the opportunity. But then I had another idea… Stan, start driving, I'll tell you as we go to school."

"What?—oh, okay."

After a few moments Kenny continued. "I told him that we should actually start seeing each other. I remember him looking at me funny, but then I told him that his plan would be better, that I should probably stay by his side to be his boyfriend, so that I could flirt with him."

"To see if you'd be jealous," Kyle added.

Kenny nodded. "But then, Stan, you were being such a dickhole, and you began _asking_ us to go on dates, and you were all supportive of our 'relationship' and stuff."

"—because I thought you were actually dating!" interjected Stan in his defense.

Kenny ignored him. "So then, without really telling Kyle, I sorta… intervened." Kyle frowned at this; apparently what Kenny was going to say next was new to him, too. "But Stan, you already know what I did. I started encouraging you to confess to Kyle, because I knew you liked him since… well, long before Kyle approached me. I even bailed out of the date you made for us so you could tell him."

There was a silence between the three boys, and as Kenny sighed Stan decided to drive a little faster. "So," began Stan, trying to make sense out of everything he'd just heard. "You're saying that all along we both liked each other?"

"And that neither of you had the nerve to mention it?" added Kenny. "Yeah, I'd say something like that. But… thanks to my help, you guys will finally be together!" He smiled, looking from Stan to Kyle, and though Stan tried to show his euphoria without removing his eyes from the road, he hadn't heard a particularly interesting response from the boy next to him.

"Kyle?" Kenny asked quietly, and Stan heard no response. They arrived at the school moments later, and he could faintly hear Kenny's muttering here and there, saying how he'd worked to get the both to realize the truth. But… something wasn't right.

Stan turned to Kyle.

He was crying.

**XX**

They were in the cafeteria, eating breakfast, and though Kenny usually took to enthusiastically, that particular morning he was treating to Kyle, who had been in a down mood since their car ride to school.

"Let him be," he muttered sharply.

Stan only watched from his side of the table. Why was it him—Kenny? He had just received the truth that morning, yet it was Kenny comforting Kyle, not himself…. If all they said had been true, why was it that the two were still so close to each other?

A horrible truth entered Stan's mind, but he chose to ignore it; his instincts had been right before.

"Stan?" began Kenny, and Stan's head turned to him. "Do you think you could… leave for a while?—I need to discuss something with Kyle."

"Uh… I guess." …and while he was gone they'd be talking about Kyle's situation with Stan…. Had the "truth" they had told him been a fraud?—had they made it up for Stan's sake?—because, if it _had_ been the truth, there were still many things that weren't fitting in.

Like, for example, why Kyle was sad.

If it had been just a huge plan of his, why was he saddened by the results?—he had gotten what he wanted, hadn't he? And Kenny… he had been the one to suggest the relationship to Kyle, instead of agreeing to "break it off" with Kyle…. Had Kenny _wanted _that relationship?

Then it occurred to Stan… maybe they were talking about something other than… things… while he was gone.

It felt a lot to process—he didn't even know what to make out of all of the mess. Well, he knew one thing, and that was that he _did_ have a chance with Kyle. But… did Kyle want him to have that chance?

Stan sighed, and continued walking. Thinking too hard about it would do him no good, none at all.

**XX**

He knew it was only a dream—a daydream—yet he didn't want to remind himself.  
He had had this dream before, too.

God, he was worse than Kenny, sometimes.

In the eerie silence of the room there was a faint light, a light that somehow allured the raven-haired boy, his lips parting slightly in anticipation, his hands rubbing themselves together, all as if already knowing what he'd find on the other side of the bookshelves.

And of course, he somehow did know what the library's furniture concealed, and he was quite happy at the sight he saw—a very provocatively dressed Kyle Broflovski, tight black dress shirt parted partially at the collar, buttons undone, arms hanging loosely, red curls disheveled more than already possible, and his legs suggestively open.

"Happy to see me?" asked Stan in his deepest yet cheesiest of voices.

"No."

No?

Stan frowned, his head jutting immediately from the pit his folded arms created. No?—but it _had_ been a dream… not the _same_ dream… but a dream nevertheless.

He was half-paying attention to his teacher. Frankly he really didn't care much about the subject—he never did. And, as always, he couldn't wait to get out of it.

It had only been a dream, yet he seemed to be deeply affected by it. Kyle wasn't happy that Stan liked him back… but why?—or had those only been tears of joy?

_No_, Stan thought to himself,_ he wouldn't have felt down during breakfast…._ He sighed, looking at the whiteboard in front of him: useless information, as always.

Stan knew what he had to do.

It was always the same solution, always the same answer, and he felt somewhat happy that it wasn't more complicated than it could've been. But still, with Kenny around, he'd need a way to do it—unless, this time, he tried doing it with Kenny around?—but at the same time, that would be difficult and awkward.

And then it hit him. _Of course!_—why hadn't he thought of it before?

…now he just needed the bell to ring.

…any moment now….

…it would surely ring soon—his clock was _supposed _to accurate….

…goddamnit, why wasn't it ring—

Ah, there it was.

Stan got up to a start, hurrying his way out of the classroom. Last time he had gotten there before the both of them… he needed that to happen again.

But what if they had just been late?—what if they were there before him? That would surely make things harder….

But, luckily for Stan, they weren't. The familiar table was still empty, and no faces were beaming in his direction. He relaxed, setting his things on the top of the desk, taking a seat where he could see Kyle and Kenny come into the cafeteria.

Would it work?—Stan only hoped so. But then, there was still the chance of him declining, wasn't there? Yet somehow, even with that untrue dream of his, Stan knew he'd say yes… he _had_ to.

Time seemed to pass much slower than usual as Stan waited for them. Had they left too early?—were they too late? Somehow Stan felt the two should already have arrived by now…. He checked his watch once, then twice, and then a third time, but still they didn't come.

…it was worse than waiting for a bell to ring, and _that_ said a lot.

But they did come… eventually. Stan saw the two from the cafeteria's entrance, quite easily since the crowds of hungry students had long gone through that doorway. Kyle seemed to be somewhat better—he was talking to Kenny, at least—yet he wasn't himself… it seemed.

He waited for the two to come to the table before he stood up.

"You leaving?" asked Kenny with a questioning look. "I was gonna ask you… well, never mind." He sighed, turning to Kyle. "Are you going with him?"

Stan blinked; did Kenny already know what he wanted to do?—no, he couldn't have known. He hadn't told anyone he wanted to talk to Kyle… unless he was really _that_ easy to predict.

Kyle frowned. "Am I…going with him?"

"Yeah, dude," said Kenny enthusiastically, and for a second Stan could've sworn there was a glint in his eye. "Stan stood up when we arrived… I figured he was waiting for you or something."

Kyle shrugged. "I dunno… I might've." He turned to Stan. "_Am_ I going with you?"

Stan looked at his dazed look; he wanted to say yes, but maybe Kyle was only testing him… maybe he knew he really hadn't. Still, it _was_ a good opportunity…. "Er, yea, you did…."

"Oh." Kyle turned to Kenny. "Yeah, I guess I'm going with him. Sorry, Ken."

"Nah, don't worry about it." He smiled, looking around. "I'll just find Cartman and sit with him." He gave a wave, and though both returned the favor Stan did so hesitantly. Kenny had just done him a favor, willingly….

Maybe they weren't against him after all.

"Where'd you say we were going?" Kyle asked curiously, but Stan said nothing, only continuing to lead the way. He was ahead of Kyle, but only slightly, and he could still see him from the corner of his eye.

"This way," Stan muttered, taking Kyle by the arm and steering him right, around the corner. He glanced at Kyle's shirt—black, collared, though probably coincidental. Stan suppressed a particularly unwanted feeling; coincidence it may've been, but he still wouldn't mind if that dream came….

"Are we going to the library?" Kyle asked curiously, and Stan said nothing, only leading. He was a shade of red, though, since the boy _was_ right, but he tried to seem unfazed as they entered the doors of their school library.

"Mr. Marsh?" said a voice almost immediately, and he turned to the librarian at the desk. "And is that Mr. Broflovski beside you?"

"Yes ma'am."

She sighed. "I'll let it slide this one time. But you two _seriously_ are a rowdy pair…." She waved them off, dismissing them, and Stan dragged Kyle to the back, past the bookshelves, to that table….

And then, they were there.

"Take a seat?" offered Stan, and Kyle found himself complying. "I wanted to know how you're feeling."

Kyle sighed; for a moment Stan wondered if Kyle would ask him why they were all the way at the library, not eating their lunches, but it seemed to pass his mind as he opened his lips to speak. "Fine."

"You sure?" Stan asked, leaning closer… unintentionally. "I mean, I could sorta agree with you, but—"

"Why am I here?" His question had been said with such force that Stan forced himself away from Kyle, looking at him as if something was wrong with him—well, something _was_ wrong with him, but… in a different way.

"To see if you're okay…" said Stan slowly. "…without Kenny interrupting us and stuff."

"Why can't Kenny interrupt?" Kyle asked, and when Stan couldn't come up with a reply, Kyle merely continued. "I… I know why we're here, Stan. You don't have to beat around the bush."

"Or behind it," Stan said instinctively, and he turned red as he said it. "Er… that's something Kenny would say… no idea why I said that."

"Yeah," agreed Kyle, and the two entered silence once more. "Speaking of Kenny…."

Stan's face lit up: It was going to happen, Stan knew it. Any second now, he knew he would've solved everything about this mystery. He'd learn any moment now why Kyle was crying, why the two talked earlier… why Kyle had lied all those days ago.

But he knew he shouldn't rush him. There was a saying about that but he couldn't really think of it at the moment. All he cared about was Kyle, and what he was going to say….

"I'm sorry."

Stan's face flashed with confusion. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Kyle repeated. "For… this morning."

"You didn't do anything," Stan said truthfully; "…except cry, but that's normal dude. Crying shows strength and character, or at least I _think_…."

Kyle said nothing, lowering his voice—which they should've been doing in the first place, granted they were in a library, but at least they hadn't been scolded at yet…. "What do you think of me?"

"What?" Stan asked again. "I don't—"

"What do you think of me?" Kyle repeated, looking into Stan's eyes as if expecting to find something there. "I mean like, after I started crying…."

"Oh…." Stan paused to think. "I didn't really think of it being much, dude. I mean, I didn't know _why_ you were crying… I just sorta figured you had a reason."

"You weren't scared or anything?" Kyle asked, the tone in his voice changing. "You didn't think that I might… not leave Kenny, even if the whole thing had been a… fake?" He seemed to be biting tears as he was speaking, especially the last part, and though Stan felt a little something at hearing this, he ignored it.

"I _might've_ thought that…." He gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Kyle, it's just that… after you told me the truth… I kinda got my hopes up. I thought it'd be so much simpler, since I liked you and you liked me…. I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be."

"But I am." Stan heaved a sigh, placing an arm around his friend.

Kyle shook him off. "You don't understand, dude, you really don't."

"Try me."

Kyle gulped. "Well, I mean… it was supposed to be a _fake _relationship! I wasn't supposed to take it seriously, and yet… and yet I…." Stan saw tears leaking from his eyes—but he didn't want him crying, not here, not now…. He raised a finger and brushed it along the bottom of his eyelid, trying his best to get him to stop.

"Kyle—"

"I don't deserve it."

"_What_?" Stan asked, confused. "Dude, you aren't making any sense."

"I don't deserve it," Kyle repeated frankly. "It's like I'm prancing between you guys, like I don't really care about who I'm with, just as long as I'm with the person who'll make me happier… but what will Kenny think?"

"Kenny supports you… us…." Stan sighed; _that's_ why Kyle had been crying?—had Kyle been afraid that he'd view Kyle differently, that he wouldn't like him anymore because… because…. "Kenny _wanted_ me to be with you, dude. He dated you so you could have me… as much as that confuses me, myself."

Stan blinked. "I won't like you any less, dude. I know you've liked me since the start, that you dated Kenny only for my sake…." He blinked again—their scheme had been quite complicated, even for him to describe…. ""If you're under the impression that I'll think that you don't like me with all your heart because you'd just left Kenny, you're mistaken."

"But what if… what if I liked being with Kenny?" The question rang through his ears, in through one, out the other, and it echoed as if it had purchased a second ticket to the ride.

"What if… you liked being with Kenny?" he repeated, and Kyle nodded.

"I like you, Stan, I really do…. And maybe it isn't Kenny I like, just the feeling of being with him…. But I'm scared, Stan."

"Let's say it _is_ just the feeling of being with him… how do you know I can't give you that feeling too?" He tried to hold any anger as best he could, but he seemed to be doing a poor job of it; his voice was changing in pitches quite unexpectedly, but Kyle didn't seem to notice. "You'll never know, won't you…?"

As the words came out of Stan's mouth he realized how selfish he sounded, but before he could make an apology Kyle began to speak. "…but if I find out it was Kenny all along… wouldn't you be mad at me if I left you for him… again?"

Stan paused. "I guess I might be…." However, realizing that wouldn't help any, he continued. "But I've realized that it shouldn't matter anymore…."

Kyle frowned, and Stan laughed.

"Well, I mean…. Kenny sent me through this whole mess because he said you'd be happier with me than with him. And I suppose I'd agree too, but…. I dunno, if it turns out that you're better off with him, I'll completely understand…." He was only partially speaking the truth now, but it seemed the only way… selfish, he had said earlier, but… selfless, at the same time.

Kyle sighed. "This really doesn't make sense to me anymore, dude…."

"I know."

Kyle shut his eyes. "Stan… will you marry me?"

Stan's eyes shot open, almost falling off his chair. "_What_?"

But Kyle only laughed at his reaction, though he quickly stopped after the many glances around the room. "I'm kidding, but… I mean, if it's okay with you, could we…."

"Give it a try?" Stan finished, and Kyle nodded. "Uh, of course, dude…. That's what I've wanted all along."

And then they hugged. It definitely wasn't his dream, but it felt all the same to Stan, the same, blissful feeling sweeping over him…. It had worked out in the end. Stan wasn't even sure how it happened, but he didn't care—who would?—the boy was already in his arms, resting his head upon his shoulder….

The people around the room took no notice, too busy in their own studies—but it seemed that even if they did notice, their hug looked so friendly it didn't even matter… though, it was a tad long.

"We'll make it work," Stan muttered, letting his instincts speak for him, his eyes still searching around the room, his mind in never ending bliss….

One day they'd have to face the complications amongst them, but that could wait… it was over. Stan couldn't let go, he _wouldn't_ let go, the euphoria sinking into him, his hunger dying off, his eyes seeing stars and eyes amongst the bookshelves….

Eyes?

Stan blinked, letting go, and as he stood up Kyle looked confusedly at him.

"Stan?"

But Stan only continued his way to the shelf, clearing some books as he peered through the holes. He frowned, looking on the other side, as if expecting to see someone suspicious—but he came back with nothing, no one.

"I could've sworn…" muttered Stan, but he shook his head. "Never mind, dude. Come; let's go back to the cafeteria. I'm sure Kenny's getting sick of Cartman by now…."


	6. The Curious Moves

6: The Curious Moves

He stared wide-eyed at him, his gaze leaving scathing marks down his naked body. He smiled—it was all his, now—and as he searched him from head to toe, he couldn't suppress the grin that was already on his face. That neck, just asking to be bitten, to be hickey-infested… his shoulder blade, screaming for the touch of his desperate fingers… his chest, bare, pale, and waiting for his tongue to ravish it, explore its taste… his stomach, with his name already on it… his navel, practically gift-wrapped for him… his pen—

Stan woke up.  
Just a dream.

He groaned, tearing the comforters off him as he sat up. He frowned, feeling the blanket in different areas, and then let another low groan.

Yep, just as he thought. They were sticky.

It had been the second time in a row—Kyle, spread atop a desk, papers carelessly rumpled beneath him, unhelpful books piled to raise his body where necessary… all a dream. Stan wanted to say they were in a library, yet he never seemed to recall any bookcases anywhere.

But the fact remained: Stanley Marsh was having boners over Kyle and books.

…Kyle _with_ books.

…perhaps Kyle alone?

…but definitely not the books.

Stan sighed, stripping off his boxers as he tossed them somewhere. Thankfully enough, the dreams weren't happening at school, and Stan could only _imagine_ how difficult it would be for him if he fell asleep during class nowadays.

He walked to his closet naked. He wondered, very suddenly and very randomly, if Kyle was having dreams like these, as well. He had another thought, that maybe Kyle was boning over Kenny—but he forcefully shut that out of his mind. _Believe what you want to believe_….

And, of course, Stan wanted to believe that Kyle was boning (over) him, not Kenny.

He found a pair of grey underwear and pulled them on. They would surely stain if he had another accident, but he hadn't much choice—after all, he had already used most of his colored boxers, and briefs would surely be an embarrassment for the boy to wear, especially if Kyle saw them.

No, there would be no other choice—Stan kept them on.

But now what? It was a Sunday morning, much too early for his own good, and Stan was left with nothing to do. Kyle would be sleeping, of course, and calling him would be unheard of….

Yet Stan grabbed his cell phone anyway, turning it on as he prepared to punch in keys. It took awhile to get to the screen he wanted, but eventually, with time, it came.

_Morning dude call me when u wake up. I love u._

Stan frowned. Would that be a bit too forward? They had only been dating for two days now; what if _love_ was too strong of a word for him?

But it was the truth, wasn't it? He had been using _like_ all this time, but somehow Stan felt he really did _love_ Kyle… yet did Kyle 'love' him back?

Stan shook his head, sighing as he punched a few more keys. It wouldn't do at all, no it wouldn't….

It now read: _Morning dude call me when u wake up. I miss u._

Stan nodded at the message; that seemed much better. But then, another thought occurred to him: should he include a farewell?—should he type more? Would Kyle not believe him if he sounded too emotionless?

…but it was only words, after all, words that could only be seen, not heard, words without emotion, but simply staring at him, mundanely, coldly, revealing only as their meaning would allow….

Stan's face contorted, punching a few more keys: _Morning dude call me when u wake up. I miss u see u soon._

That _had_ to be better, it had to be. There was no way he could improve that message, he just knew it.

…unless… he made the sentence grammatically correct, with proper spelling and punctuation?

Grumbling, Stan pressed more keys—why did sending a simple text message need to have so many complications to it?

Resolving that he would change it no more, Stan looked at the final message: _Morning dude call me when you wake up. I miss you see you soon._

_Screw the punctuation_, Stan muttered to himself, sending it to Kyle. Hopefully Kyle wouldn't be turned off by a boy with poor grammar.

…the thought alone scared him—what if he was?

**XX**

"…no."

"Aw, come on dude, just give it a try!"

"…no."

Stan whined. It was lunchtime, and Stan was in his room, with the door shut. He was on his phone, but not with Kyle—no, Kyle hadn't been home all morning, particularly because the family was to pick up Ike from the airport. Kenny didn't exactly own a cell phone, so….

Yes, he was on the phone with Cartman.

"Dude, you _have_ to!" protested Stan. "You're gonna make Kenny really lonely if you don't go!"

"Why the hell are you making me go?—get Kenneh to _not_ go, or somethin'!"

"…but I want Kenny to come, dude." Stan paused. "Come on, Cartman, just go."

"Nope." Stan groaned again. "Why do I have to go, anyway? The three of you will probably just have one giant threesome, even if I were there."

"No we wouldn't."

"Kenneh would. He'd do it for the kinky sex. And I'm sure Kahl's all about the relief." Stan shook his head as he searched his desk's drawers. "You'd do it to fulfill your fantasy, Stan."

"What?"

"Nothing," Cartman said quickly, and though Stan frowned at the thought, he was quickly diverted off matters when he found the battery he needed. "Anyway, I guess I'll come."

"Huh?" Stan said, blinking. "Why the sudden change?"

"What?" snapped Cartman; "can I not change my mind or somethin'? Besides… I kinda owe it to you guys, anyway."

Stan frowned; Cartman _owed_ it to them? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Cartman continued, as if he already knew what Stan wanted to ask. "Remember the time I made fun of you, in that one class, that one time?"

"…which time?"

"…you know… that _one_ time."

"…goddamnit, Cartman, that falls under like, _every_ time."

There was a moment before Cartman answered. "Okay, that one time, in seventh period, when I told you not to sink to Kahl's level."

Stan blinked. "I think so." He paused for a moment to replace the batteries in his clock. "Why?"

"Well… this is gonna sound totally gay…."

"Say it."

Another moment. "I… regret it."

Stan laughed; Cartman apologizing was _gay_ to him?—god, what did he think of his three friend's affairs?

Cartman spoke again; maybe Cartman really _was_ psychic…. "I've been treating you all quite… harshly lately, and I wanted to say… well, I wanted to say that I'm okay with my three best friends being… gay." He had said the last word so repulsively, but Stan hadn't cared. _Three best friends_…?

In a way Stan felt guilty. Here they were, always treating him disrespectfully, even ignoring him in the midst of the three's confusion—and still he considered them his best friends?

"I figured… Big Gay Al's pretty gay himself… and he's cool. So, you guys probably are too."

"Thanks, dude," Stan said, even turning red a bit. "You should probably tell Kenny and Kyle that, you know…. I'm sure they'd love to hear that, too."

And then, once more, Stan found it—the familiar tone of Cartman's he knew. "You fuckin' kiddin' me, Stan, they'll bring it to my grave if they find out!"

"Sorry… sorry… calm down."

The two shared a laugh. Things were going to be better now.

**XX**

It wasn't Friday night, and it was barely evening. Yet they were there, anyway.

"Good afternoon," a rather bored yet familiar lady said lamely as they walked through the doors. "How many lanes?"

"One's fine," said Stan, reaching for his wallet.

"Three pairs of rental shoes?" the girl in the red-and-white uniform added, looking especially at Cartman.

"Hey, she remembered!"

"Three's good," and Stan handed over the money. Somewhere behind him were Kenny and Kyle, and even though they weren't doing anything, he couldn't help but to snag a look….

Kyle smiled in his direction; Stan turned back to the lady.

"Twelfth lane," she said monotonously. "Buzz or call if you need assistance."

"Thanks… Jessica," Stan added, glancing upon her nametag. He turned around, handing out the pairs, and soon they left for their assigned bowling lane.

"We got lane twelve last time, didn't we?" asked Kyle, who was now (barely) holding Stan's free hand. He glanced first at Stan, who seemed to be shaking with each step he took; and then to Kenny, who seemed to have a curious eye on their clasped hands. "Cartman?"

"Aye! How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"…yeah," Stan said weakly, and Kyle left it at that.

Stan was nervous. Sure, he and Kyle had talked long into the hours of the night, sometimes even until the night itself had died in the morning's warmth; but in person, Stan had never felt so nervous. He had never thought he'd get the opportunity to be this close to Kyle, and yet… here he was, holding his hand.

It was the only thing he could really do with somewhat confidence. Would putting an arm around him give Kyle a wrong impression?—what if he leaned into him? Would _that_ be okay?

And then, when they would be ready to leave, what kind of goodbye would he say?—what would he say, even? The _love_ word was hard to manage, as he had already found out earlier…. And would he give a goodbye kiss, a hug?—a _friendly_ hug, a _romantic_ hug?

The four found their lane, and as Stan and Kyle sat down in the seats, Kenny and Cartman huddled around the small screen.

"Nu, Kenneh, _I'm_ typing the names."

"Damn you, Cartman, if you punch in the names, then _don't_ put any nicknames!"

"Fine!" sneered Cartman.

Kenny searched him from head to toe, giving a curious glance. "Okay then…. Now that that's settled, I'll go find myself some balls."

Stan laughed as he watched him leave; he remembered that line from days ago, back at McDonalds when Kenny had first told him to try his hand with Kyle… and here he was now, with Kyle by his side. Did Kenny regret that day?—Stan only hoped not.

He turned to Kyle, who was busy looking at the screen above them, as if waiting for Cartman to type his name in… _properly_. He looked at his free hand, which was resting idly on the seat. Should he…?

And he did. Though with much self-encouragement, he slowly extended his own hand and, after closing his eyes, let it fall on Kyle's.

He opened his eyes; nothing happened.

Stan sighed in relief.

Why was it so hard to touch Kyle? In all his dreams he could easily touch him, crave him, hold him… but he wouldn't go into the details, or he might have a slightly _hard_ problem to deal with. But the point was, in real time, in the present… he couldn't. Well, it wasn't that he _couldn't _do it, but… it was more difficult than he would've imagined.

"He put my name," Kyle said at last, turning to Stan, not even acknowledging Stan's hand on his. "Not Jewboy or Ginger or _Kahl_… just Kyle."

Stan looked above him. "Wonder why he actually listened to Kenny?"—but he knew, of course, from their phone conversation not too long ago.

He felt Kyle lean on his shoulder, and for a split moment Stan felt a wave of happiness. He cheered on the inside; that would be another action he knew Kyle wouldn't mind.

"Tired?" Stan asked him, and Kyle nodded. "How was Ike's trip?"

Kyle laughed. "The convention was fine; he got first place in everything he entered, which scares the living hell out of me."

"Oh… right, that genius." Genius indeed—after all, Ike _had_ known Kyle's secret…. Again, Stan wondered if Kyle knew about his brother's secret knowledge, but Stan decided it wouldn't be his place to simply _ask_ him about it.

"But," continued Kyle, a smile all the wider on his face; "but, as for the plane ride itself?—well, he sorta… puked in the aisle."

"What?" asked Stan, and Kyle nodded.

"I'm not sure if it was because of plane food or what, but…." Kyle ended there. There was a moment of silence as the two watched Cartman hobble away, presumably to find Kenny.

Stan looked at Kyle—for some reason, Stan felt as if putting an arm around Kyle would make the scene look somewhat better, especially with Kyle's head already on his shoulder… and so, with little hesitance, Stan placed an arm around Kyle, bringing the boy closer to him as he looked down at Kyle.

He was smiling at him.

…but others weren't.

"Mommy, mommy, I think they're gay!"  
"Don't stare, Matthew, it's impolite to stare and point."  
"But Mommy, look, they're holding each other!"  
"I think the boy's just crying, Mathew, now turn away." Stan could've sworn he heard the mother add "At least, what they're doing, they won't catch any girl cooties, now will they, Matthew?" after they were no longer looking at him, but Stan figured that might've just been his mom's voice echoing in his own mind.

…though he could be wrong, because shortly after Kyle snorted.

"Oh, by the way," Stan said, as it had only just come to mind. "Remember I was telling you about the person spying on us in the library?"

"Yeah," said Kyle slowly, biting his lip. "The person behind the bookshelf?"

"Yeah." Stan paused. "Well, I found out who it was."

"Really, who was it?"

"Who else?" Stan said, and the two joined together in laughter as Kenny and Cartman returned.

"…goddamnit, if I hadn't forgotten my custom-made ball…. It was right beside the shoes, too!"

Stan frowned at Kenny as Kyle seated himself upright once more—Stan kept the arm around him. "None of the balls fit him," Kenny said with a smug face, and Kyle broke into laughter. "I'd expect a zero score from him."

"We'll see now, Kenneh, won't we?" he challenged, and with a laugh he grabbed the nearest ball. "Let's play!"

**XX**

"…are you sure, dude?—it's only, like, six."

"Stan, I've gotta get a start on all my homework." Stan sighed; it was much quieter around them, now that Kenny and Cartman were already out of his car. Stan had been hoping to take Kyle out for the rest of the night, alone, but Kyle had declined him, remorsefully.

"Next time," said Kyle, "I promise."

"Okay." The two stepped out of his car, and as he locked the door, Stan hurried to Kyle's side. "Are you doing anything tomorrow?"

"Other than school?"

"…well, yeah, of course. Like, tomorrow evening."

Stan frowned, pausing to think. "I don't think so, dude. Why?"

Kyle stared at him blankly. "Wanna go out tomorrow, then?—like… a date, if you wanna call it that."

Stan's heart was beating faster now, his hand shaking as he placed an arm around Kyle's waist… wait, waist?—no!—he meant to put it around Kyle's shoulders!—shit!—what would Kyle think, what would he—

Stan blinked. Nothing.

"Stan?" Kyle asked, looking at him curiously.

"Huh?—oh." He smiled apologetically. "No, no, of course… what time?"

"Like, about this time." Stan nodded, and as they approached the front of his door Stan leaned against the wall of the house. A _date_? God, he wanted it so badly, but… he was already finding it difficult just_ holding_ him, let alone trying to _impress_ the boy….

And then, as Kyle fished for his keys, Stan realized: that moment was here. The moment where he'd have to say goodbye, where he'd have to _say_ something, _do_ something, prove that—

"I'll see you later, then?" said Stan, shaking his head from all the thoughts, and as he pushed himself off the wall Kyle nodded.

"Hey, Stan?"

Stan turned around on the spot, almost falling in doing so.

"Hm?"

"Thanks." Kyle stepped forward, and for a moment Stan found himself trembling once more. But Kyle merely stepped right up to him, and as Stan felt arms wrap around him he figured mirroring would be at least a start.

It was a hug, but it certainly didn't have the feel of the one in the library. Kyle's warmth was mixing with his own, a much more welcome feeling, yet… all the anxiety and nervousness inside him was ruining it, spoiling the moment.

"For what?" Stan whispered into Kyle's ear, and the boy jumped.

…that's not what he had wanted to do, at all.

"For tonight," Kyle replied, pulling away to look at Stan's blue eyes. "And I'm sorry again for not being able to go out tonight, but—"

He did it. Stan wasn't sure what made him do it, and he grew increasingly scared the longer his mouth was clasped over Kyle's. Perhaps it had been the way Kyle was staring at him, or maybe just Kyle himself…. The kiss was still going, and Stan was waiting for it, waiting for the moment Kyle would push him off….

It never happened, though. It was still a pathetically light kiss, yet Kyle wasn't refusing; Stan found himself pushing Kyle into the wall, his instincts taking over, that lusting, Kyle-thirsty side taking over him….

Stan had been the one to end it.

It had taken him all his willpower to do it, convincing himself that if he kept this going his family would see them, walking in on them when they didn't even know Kyle had a thing for his best friend…. Plus, Stan didn't even know if Kyle was merely humoring him, if he liked it at all….

"I'm so sorry," Stan said, quickly backing away. Kyle was looking at him with a dazed look. Oh god, what had he done?—why had he just swooped in for the kiss, not even thinking—his breath probably smelled, too. Did he tilt at the right angle? Was pushing him into the wall a good idea?

Stan closed his eyes shut. He had ruined the relationship; he had gone too fast, he had lost his chance with Kyle…. There went every chance for one of his many wet dreams to come true… though that was the least of his worries, of course. God, he didn't even want to think about what would happen next. It would probably be too much for him.

But what did happen next? Well….

"What the hell are you sorry for?"—and when Stan opened his eyes he found himself lost in Kyle once more.

Stan's hands were on the move. They sought first his thick hair, his fingers entwining themselves in his red curls, tightening their grasp when pleasure came his way; but soon they left, trailing scorching trails down the back of his neck, circling its perimeter, tracing up toward his jaw line….

For a moment Stan's eyes widened, but his realization passed. This was real. It wasn't a coincidental situation; it wasn't an innuendo in any way. It was real; he really _was_ kissing Kyle on his porch, his hands really were feeling the boy's soft cheeks, Kyle's warmth really _was_ surrounding him….

They let go, only to catch their breath. By the look of Kyle's expression he seemed exhilarated, the widest grin plastered on his face. Stan most definitely felt the same, yet his lack of breath made it difficult for him to show it. So, he resumed doing the only thing he could to show Kyle he liked it.

His hands rested on Kyle's waist as they kissed again. Ignoring his usual, doubting instinct, Stan probed his tongue against the parting of Kyle's lips. His eyes widened when Kyle gave him the access, but he had no idea what to do once his tongue was in his mouth….

So he merely licked the insides of it, and soon he found himself occupied with a new quest: a quest to savor as much of Kyle's taste as he could. There was a distinct taste of pizza, probably from the bowling alley they were previously at… yet there was also something unique, something Stan couldn't place.

His fingers found the hem of Kyle's shirt, and, without thinking, he slipped them underneath. Kyle made no sign of disapproval—had this been the result of Kenny's influence?—so Stan merely continued in caressing the soft skin beneath his shirt, ghosting over the abs Stan kept forgetting he had….

And then, the opening of the front door tore the two apart—as if Stan had changed magnetic poles in an instant, suddenly repelling the two instead of attracting them….

"About time," said Ike, who seemed to be ignoring the fact that the two had just been in a rather hardcore make out session.

"About… time?" Kyle echoed.

"You're smarter than that," Ike said, shaking his head. "If you must know, for next time, don't kiss each other when the curtains in the living room window aren't drawn."

Kyle turned a deep red as he looked to Stan. "What's he mean by _about time_, dude? You know what he's talking about?"

"Not at all," Stan said, deciding it was better to not tell Kyle about his chat with Ike some time ago….

Ike seemed to catch this lie and consequently gave no comment on the matter. "I'm guessing you don't want me to tell mom, huh?"

"Tell mom what?"

"About you… and Stan." He gave a distinct cough, nudging his head inside the house. "They're… _busy,_ we'll call it, and I really don't want to think about it, frankly. But you don't want me to tell them anything about you being with Stan, right?"

Kyle shrugged. "I guess… I don't think it'd matter much, though."

Ike stared at his brother blankly, and as Kyle turned to Stan, he seemed to be doing the same. "Your mom's insane, dude," Stan said quietly. "She might start a MAG organization…."

"Oh." Kyle nodded, and then shook his head. "Yeah, don't tell her I guess…." He turned to Stan, giving him an apologetic smile. "Well, Stan… thanks." He walked up to him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before heading inside the house.

He remained motionless for several moments, even raising a hand to the spot where he had been kissed.

Ike, however, scoffed at the action. "So pathetic, Stan Marsh…. But I see you finally found out Kyle's secret?"

Stan nodded. "I had no idea why you kept calling it a secret until he told me…. Geez, he's just… too much of a genius, sometimes, you know? Kinda like you."

"We're not related," Ike reminded, staring at the sky. Stan muttered an '_oh'_ in his defense, finding himself just as lost amongst the stars. "On that note… I want you to promise me something, Stan."

"Is it something I can keep?" asked the boy, frowning. "I'll do my best, but—"

"You don't even know what I want to say, yet," Ike said, and Stan apologized quickly. "I want you to promise not to have sex."

There was a moment between them, neither boy talking as they met each other's gaze. And then, just as Stan tried raising an eyebrow, he couldn't help but to break the silence between them.

"How random…?" began Stan, but Ike's facial expression told him he was being completely serious. "Why?"

"It's not random," Ike muttered, still staring at the sky. "I just don't… well, I mean, by that I meant like, don't have sex for the hell of it, you know? Wait until you really want it…."

"You sound like my health teacher."

Ike merely glared at him. "My parents… my real ones… I think they must've had sex by accident or something… that's probably why they didn't want me." Ike hiccupped. "I just… don't want anyone else making that same mistake."

"I see," said Stan, turning to Kyle's adopted brother. "But, I mean, that doesn't really apply to us, you know. I mean… Kyle and me—we can't have a kid. I think male pregnancies only exist in crappy television shows, right?"

"I guess." Ike hiccupped again, turning to Stan. "Just… look after him, okay? I trust you more than that Kenny kid."

"I will," and, after giving a quick goodbye, sped away to his car. Yet the smile on his face was priceless—he was better than Kenny!

**XX**

He was in that dreaded class once more.

It felt the same every day—the same boring lecture, the same boring subject, the same, excruciating feeling, and the same, tantalizing anticipation, knowing that lunch was not too far off….

On his desk was a sheet of notebook paper, Kyle's name etched at the top. He scanned it once, viewing the letter he had written—would it be good enough? He barely found the need to write a letter to anyone before, yet it seemed to make so much sense. Of course, it could've just been the influence of sheer boredom….

He went over the paper, editing it for spelling mistakes. He'd have to ask him that, one day, if Kyle was turned off by bad grammar and spelling…. He placed it at the back of his mind, however, concentrating on making the letter as perfect as he could.

In the end his eyes fell upon the last line, a frown forming on his face.

_I'm gonna see you in like, two seconds, dude, so I'll stop here. Hope you've had a good day so far. _(Four lines of blank lines). _Stan_.

It was the same issue all over again. How would Stan say goodbye?

Sincerely yours?—no, that sounded too… well, not something he'd say.

From?—too simple, something he probably would've said before their relationship….

See you soon?—but he had practically just said that.

Love?—Stan paused at the word. Love… why the hell did it scare him so much? Had Kyle been right?—was he afraid that Kyle didn't really love him, that he was attached to Kenny, that—

No. He knew better. He had to trust Kyle.

But this _love_ word…. It was a strong word, much like hate.

Yet he hated Cartman. But he _hated_ Cartman. And though he was somewhat in good terms with him at the moment, he could say he still _hated_ Cartman without second thought.

Same with Shelley.

But then, if he meant the word 'hate' when he used it… could he use the word 'love' when he meant it too?

…because, now that Stan thought about it, he _did_ love him….

The bell rang. Stan panicked, looking at his letter—still blank, at the bottom. He bit his lip, feeling everyone around him vacate the classroom, and as he picked up his pencil he wrote down the four letters (and the comma).

_Love_,

It sounded so… pathetic, in Stan's mind, but he quickly folded the paper and stuffed it into his pocket. He hurried out of the class, dodged students in the halls….

He arrived in the cafeteria to find Cartman bickering with Kenny.

"They argue like a married couple," Kyle said quietly, whispering into Stan's ear. "But don't tell them that."

"I won't," said Stan, laughing as he watched the two. "What're they arguing about, anyway?"

Kyle sighed. "Kenny making too many innuendos. What else?"

**XX**

Stan was content with life for several reasons.

1 – Ike thought Stan would make a better boyfriend for Kyle than Kenny did.  
2 – As he had found out shortly after Kenny's argument with Cartman, Kenny had taken a new liking for Tweek.  
3 – Kyle gave his best wishes to Kenny, which, to Stan, meant that Kyle was now entirely his.  
4 – Kyle was his boyfriend. Of course.  
5 – Shelley had stopped being a freakishly pleasant sister to him, and although he hadn't minded the absence of objects flying in his direction, he felt safe knowing that things were returning to normal.  
6 – Things _were_ returning to normal.  
7 – No one was complaining about his relationship with Kyle, not even Cartman.  
8 – Kyle was his boyfriend… or had he already mentioned that?

There were many things Stan was happy about, but he didn't bother thinking of all of them. As long as he was enjoying life—that was what mattered.

**XX**

All those times he questioned his actions, became cautious of what he said, what he did, what others were doing, how _they_ felt… they had all paid off. His curious moves had gotten him to where he was now, and he was more than thankful.

Stan expressed this to Kyle, who was seated on the swing next to him, and his Jewish boyfriend laughed.

"Tell me one more time?" Stan asked, and Kyle began explaining once more the plan he had undergone all those months ago, when Kyle had liked him secretly, not knowing those feelings were already being reciprocated…. "You're a genius, you know that?"

"I'm told." He swung lightly, glancing over his shoulder at Stan. "Oh, Stan, I read your note, by the way. It gave me… quite a laugh."

"Did it?" Stan said, chuckling under his breath. It had become a habit, ever since one and a half months ago, when he had written that first letter…. "So, any comments on it?"

Kyle smirked. "No, Stan, I am _not_ turned off by bad grammar."

Stan gave an enthusiastic cheer. "Good, because I think I might've forgotten a period on the last sentence."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Like I care, dude…." They continued to swing silently at the park, letting the winds of spring blow pleasantly against themselves… it wouldn't be long before summer, where they could spend countless hours under the sun, having almost no worries, just being themselves….

"You think we should tell our families about us?" Kyle voiced quietly, not looking at Stan as he spoke. "Ike's been pretty good about keeping silent, but… I'm afraid the longer I keep it from her, the longer mom will get mad at me."

"Do whatever you like," Stan said, shrugging. "I'm hoping Shelley stays quiet, too, but… if you feel ready, then I'll be, too."

Kyle laughed. "Even if you really aren't?"

"Even so." Stan flashed Kyle a brilliant grin, and Kyle couldn't help but to leave it alone.

"Always for me, huh, Stanley Marsh…. Don't you ever think about what _you_ want?" Stan shook his head as Kyle jumped off the swing. "I don't think I'll ever understand you, dude…."

Stan followed suit. "Kyle Broflovski," he mimicked, jumping off his own swing and joining Kyle's side under the sunlit sky. "I don't think I ever will, either…."

_**- fin -**_


	7. The Unnecessary Epilogue

The Unnecessary Epilogue

The sun shone unusually bright that morning as Stan tossed in his bed. He twisted and turned in his sleep, trying to avoid the merciless sun, but it would not relent.

"Few more minutes," he mumbled quietly, though, unsurprisingly, it did not listen. It shone all the brighter, finding any possible way of breaching the curtains, finding any method of getting the boy to wake up….

In the end he gave up, however, and with an irritated sigh he picked himself off the bed. It was the last day of school, the last day he'd have to get up early—at least, for a long while. Even if the students were to be at school at a later time, purely because of the day being the last one of the school year, Stan felt it _still_ was much too early to be waking up.

The door opened suddenly, but Stan's tired eyes failed to show him quickly enough who the intruder was. "Wake up, _turd_," Shelley spat, and before slamming the door shut once more, Stan felt a French-English dictionary connect with his head.

It took a good minute to recover from the blow, but once he was certain his left eye hadn't been blinded, he trudged his half-naked self into his closet. Blue windbreaker, red shirt, navy jeans… that seemed right. He pulled out the articles of clothing, tossing them onto his bed when he had found them, and he threw the now empty hangers hastily on his closet floor.

His mind went over the things he needed for the day. He'd have to pick up Kenny and Kyle before going to school, as always…. He never exactly told the blonde that he was still offering rides out of pity, not wanting him to walk all that distance… yet it really didn't matter, for it was pretty much an engraved habit, now.

As for bringing Kyle to school…. The boy had finally gotten himself his own car, but still they chose to carpool together. But neither boy was complaining; at least once a week Stan would drive Kyle away to some remote location in South Park (though any location qualified for that 'remote location,' really), where the two would spend hours with each other, just talking about their day, discussing philosophies and theories, planning the future ahead of them—just being _themselves_, living life they thought it was _meant_ to be lived.

…of course, they did all this while enjoying secluded moments lost with each other, taking time to explore each other, letting their curious desires burn rampant, allowing themselves to—

Another book at the back of his head told him that he was wasting too much time.

Where had he left off before trailing away… ah, yes!—what he needed to do that day. He exited his closet, still half-naked, and as he dragged himself to his book bag he began to fill it with all the textbooks he needed to return. After that… well, he wasn't planning on taking Kyle anywhere after school that day… at least, not immediately afterward. So he'd have time to go home from school and rethink his agenda, then….

"Stan!" his mother called from downstairs; "Stan, don't forget, we're going to the pool with the Broflovski family this afternoon!"

Stan blinked. Pool?

Oh, right. _That_ pool. The one all the first graders pee in.

In a way then, Stan _was_ taking Kyle somewhere after school that day.

He sighed, setting his filled backpack on his bed, and then without any more ado, he snatched a towel and hurried to the bathroom. His shower had lasted a good five minutes, and he ignored his screeching mother as he returned to his bedroom, sopping wet. Chuckling at his mother's angry calls ("You're getting the carpet wet, Stan!"), Stan tossed his towel on his computer chair, letting the cool air of his room acquaint with his skin before covering himself with the clothes he had set earlier.

Now… it was time to depart.

"Bye, mom!" Stan called, still ignoring his mother. He gave a wave to Shelley, and although she was equipped and ready to chuck something else at her brother, she gave him her best forced smile.

Stan went to Kyle's house first. It was, again, out of habit, ever since he resolved to get the truth out of Kyle, so many months before…. Kenny didn't mind the change, obviously, even encouraging Stan's decision. And of course, he always claimed the backseat, which he claimed was the "best seat in the theater," when it came to "watching the hottest foreplay in man's existence."

Sometimes Stan wondered if Kenny thought much of his old (yet fake) relationship with Kyle.  
Stan hoped not.

Less than five minutes passed before Stan arrived at Kyle's house. He turned off the car, stepped out of his car, and made his way to the door.

He barely placed a finger on the doorbell when the door swung open.

"Hello… _Stan_." Ike smiled at him, a glint in his eye, before letting Stan inside the house. "Kyle's getting ready, still. Apparently you're not the only one who's running late." Ike pointed at his watch, causing Stan to turn a deep red.

"Last day of school," reasoned Stan, shrugging sheepishly. "It makes you do things like waking up late."

"I see." Ike brought his hand to his mouth and gave a cough, immediately resting against the wall when he had finished. "I'm sick on the last day of school. Aren't I lucky."

Stan nodded. "Lucky bastard, indeed."

"What was that?" Ike said, frowning. "Didn't quite catch that. For a second I thought you had said a cuss word…."

"Stan!" and as Stan turned to the stairs he caught a fleeting glimpse of a flying Kyle, right before it made its crash. Stan fell to the ground, crumbled by Kyle's weight, and as he struggled to get up Kyle kept in place. "Happy End-of-the-School-Year Day!"

"Happy… day to you, too, dude…." Stan groaned, resting his head against their floor. "Kyle, can you get off? It hurts, and we still gotta pick up Kenny."

When Kyle refused, Ike chose to intervene. "Mom might think you're having sex in the foyer."

That had gotten him off.

"Well then," said Stan, giving Ike some sort of salute. "I'll be seeing you later, then?"—and then they were out the door.

"I wouldn't have minded," muttered Kyle, catching Stan's eye as they walked to his car. "Having sex in the foyer, I mean. I don't think I would've minded."

"My, my," said Stan, shaking a warning finger as he unlocked the car. "You're being a bad influence on Ike, aren't you?—besides, I thought Kyle Broflovski was my boyfriend, not Kenny McKormick.

Kyle snorted and said nothing as he climbed into the car. The silence remained as Stan took off, their fatigue heavily influencing their ability to carry a conversation, and it was only when they passed Stan's house when Kyle found the energy to talk. "I mean, I'm sure if mom saw us…"—he made a dirty gesture with his hands—"…in the foyer, she'd only get angry because we're too young. But dad… well…."

Stan sighed; it had been two weeks ago since Stan's mother had found the two in Stan's car, practically naked (underwear was next to nothing in Mrs. Marsh's book), hands all over each other, both drenched in a mixture of the two's sweat…. She had told Kyle's parents, and since then their relationship was well-known to the family—though of course, it was only the parents who had been previously left in the dark.

However, while both moms saw this as perfectly normal, their dads weren't so keen on the idea. With much persuasion (and with much alcohol) Mr. Marsh had been able to accept them… for now; however, Gerald Broflovski had been an entirely different case, going off on Kyle in a way that shocked all three of his family members.

"Luckily your mom's such an advocate," Stan said, and Kyle couldn't help but to agree; his parents had gotten into a two-day fight about the issue, and Mrs. Broflovski had attained a retort on equal human rights for all…except Canadians, because they poisoned those rights given to American children by cussing and farting and….

"I'll be right back," said Stan, who stifled a yawn as he went to fetch Kenny. Kyle nodded, allowing himself to sit silently in Stan's absence, though it wasn't very long at all when he was woken up by Kenny's loud voice.

"Still sleepy?" he greeted, giving the boy a friendly shake from behind.

Kyle only responded with a grumble.

"Don't bother him," said Stan, climbing back into his own seat.

"Why?" asked Kenny, a challenging tone in his voice. "You want to save his energy for what you've got planned later tonight?"

Stan shook his head. "Kenny, how many times do I have to keep telling you? We aren't doing anything… really. Besides, Kyle's birthday was a week ago; if anything, we did it then."

"But we didn't," added Kyle, who quickly dropped out of the conversation once more.

Kenny scoffed. "Right… and that incident in your car about two weeks ago? That was you "not doing anything," huh?"

"How'd you find out about that?"

"Oh you know… I have my ways."

Kyle feigned a cough, which distinctly sounded like "Ike."

Stan shrugged, making a turn onto a road with many trees. Somehow _one_ of these trees could provide him a distraction…. "You excited about summer, Ken?"

"Of course," he replied enthusiastically. "Summer's my favorite season of the month!"

"Wonder why," muttered Kyle, snoring immediately afterward. Of course, both boys knew by now that he wasn't really sleeping, or even trying to, for that matter….

Kenny sighed. "It'd be much better if Tweek liked the summer, but he doesn't."

"He doesn't?" Stan asked curiously. "What's his favorite month, then?"

"Winter, of course… so the Underpants gnomes can freeze to death."

**XX**

"Do you have a lucky charm?"

"No."

"Can I be your lucky charm, then?"

"No." Kenny sighed, and then pouted, all before returning to his own bowl of Lucky Charms. The three were in the cafeteria, eating the breakfasts they had purchased, and they (they being Kyle, Stan, Kenny, Cartman, and Tweek) were seated at the table, talking about pointless stuff. It seemed even the cafeteria ladies were psyched for the last day of school, having only served cold food for breakfast that morning.

Kenny turned to Tweek. "Tweek?"

"_Ack!_"

"Tweek, can I have your nuts?" Kenny asked, causing Stan to choke on his milk. "I'll give you my lucky charm, if you want it."

Tweek blinked, looking at his cereal, and perhaps even lower—though no one could tell. "S-sure… stop freaking me out like that, though."

Kenny nodded, smiling apologetically, and as he was passed the cereal a devious smirk was plastered on his face. "Thanks, dude."

"I don't think he realizes what he's done," Kyle said sadly, turning to Stan. "Tweek's pretty much just sold his soul to him."

"What'd you mean?"

"Tweek just gave Kenny permission to flirt with him without realizing it." Kyle sighed, looking at his own bowl of frosted flakes. "I wonder if he ever catches any of his innuendos like we do."

"You want me to make more innuendos from now on?" Stan asked, raising his eyebrow.

"If you mean talking dirty, then sure. But honestly, Stan, I think you should leave the job to Kenny."

"What?" Stan asked, looking dejected. "You don't think I could make a good innuendo?"

"No."

"Well, I _can_."

"Prove it."

Stan blinked. "Well, uh… if you gave me something to, err, make an innuendo about, I could, uh…."

Kyle looked at him with an amused expression. "That's what I thought," he snapped, sticking his tongue out at Stan.

He caught it with his finger, refusing to let it go.

"Cat got your tongue?" Stan asked, not catching Kenny's disappointed look—indeed, that had been _quite_ the overused phrase. "Get used to the feeling; after tonight I'm sure you'll be at a loss for words."

Kenny smirked; Kyle laughed nervously, to the best of his ability. "Stan—"

"Get used to doing that too, Kyle; I'm sure you'll find yourself panting my name a lot, later."

The disappointment on Kenny's face had vanished; in fact, the blonde was clearly impressed, nodding his head in approval as Tweek choked on one of Kenny's lucky charms. "Three times's the charm, Stan. One more time, and I'm sure Kyle will be convinced."

"Let go of my tongue!" Kyle tried to say… except it came out like "Leh-go-ah-mah-hung."

Stan let go. "Happy?"

"Much." Kyle leaned into Stan, closing his eyes contently. "By the way I changed my mind. I think you can pull off talking dirty when you want to."

"Like tonight!" Kenny exclaimed, a grin on his face. "_God_, I wish I could afford a video camera."

Stan tried explaining to Kenny that they were _not_ going to have sex that night, but Kenny seemed unconvinced. "You just said so!"

"I was just saying that to prove my point," Stan said defensively. "And by the looks of it, I think I've proven my point."

But Kenny scoffed, shaking his head disbelievingly. "Whatever, dude, I'm still gonna be at your window tonight to record—" but he never finished his sentence. A loud slam of a book interrupted him from across the table, and as all eyes (except Tweek's, too busy examining his cereal for lucky charms that might cause him to choke again) turned they found Cartman with an enraged expression.

"You guys are all _gay_," he said, shaking his head. "Not that I mind, because Big Gay Al's gay, and he's pretteh cool. But seriouslah, do you _ever_ talk about anything other than screwin' each others' brains out?" He glared particularly at Kyle before collecting his things and stampeding away.

They could all hear his voice before it faded away: "Screw you guys, I'm going home…."

There was a moment of silence at the table, save Tweek's spasms, and it was only after a minute when Kenny dared to talk. "…Tweek, your nuts are really sweet, you know that? Hard… but sweet."

**XX**

"Do you think he'll ever finish?"  
"I doubt it. Kenny's got endurance, dude."

Stan began to hum as they peered out the window, waiting for Kenny to get into the car. "You think if we told him we had candy, you think he'd get in faster?"

Kyle shrugged. "It worked one time, didn't it?"—and Stan nodded, his mind relapsing to that memory. That had been the night Kenny had encouraged Stan to chase after Kyle, the night things started getting better, the night Kenny had given him the balls to ask Kyle out (quite literally).

Stan frowned; where would their relationship be without Kenny? The blonde had helped Kyle, and then Stan… Stan began to fear where the two would be now if it hadn't been for Kenny's help.

He voiced this thought to Kyle, and he shrugged. "You'd probably be encouraging Kenny and me to go on another date… that, or to actually go ahead and _do_ it already."

"I would _not_ be saying that!" protested Stan. "Well, the date thing, maybe. But I doubt I'd ever encourage two people to have sex, dude!"

"…you're right, I'm thinking of Kenny… since he _is_ doing that to us, now." Stan nodded, looking out Kyle's window once more. "What's he doing, you know?"

"Can't say," muttered Kyle, taking a look for himself. "He's talking to Tweek—"

"—I know that much, dude."

"…I suppose he's flirting with him, again." Stan laughed at this; Kenny had been flirting with the clueless Tweek for almost a month and a half now, yet with each attempt he made he only seemed to become more unsuccessful. "I kinda feel bad for him, though."

"Because you left him?" suggested Stan, a slightly bitter tone in his voice. "Kyle, you said—"

"No," cut off Kyle, looking rather smug. "Because I think Kenny's really taking a liking for him, but Tweek doesn't have a clue what Kenny's trying to do."

"Oh." Stan turned red once more. Then, as he prepared for his next question, he turned even redder. "You never… did _it_… with Ken, did you?"

Kyle raised an eyebrow. "No, Stan, I didn't. That's the seventh time you've asked me."

"Oh… right." Stan looked over Kyle's shoulder once more. "If he doesn't come here in ten seconds…."

But thankfully he did come, a wide grin plastered on his face as he jumped into the backseat.

"Seatbelt," Stan said sternly, "and _then_ you can tell us the good news." He challenged Kenny's pouting look; the blonde had been so used to death he barely regarded something as simple as a seatbelt. Yet it seemed Stan would not back down unless he complied, so, with a sigh, he reached behind him for the belt.

"I did it!" Kenny said the second the seatbelt had made a click. "I finally did it, dudes!"

"Did what?" asked Stan, though he seemed to already know the answer.

"Tweek said yes to a date!"

Kyle looked shell-shocked. "He… he did?" he stuttered, looking at Kenny disbelievingly. "What the hell did you do to get him to say yes?"

Kenny snickered, a sly grin on his face. "_Well_… I didn't exactly mention the word 'date,' see. I told him if he wanted to catch a cup of coffee later tonight, and he said yes."

"So you _tricked_ him into a date?" Kyle clarified, and Kenny gave a shrug.

"At first he insisted that they were impossible to catch, and that coffee cups could run away very fast if people tried catching them." Kenny snorted, then continued. "But in the end he got what I meant. And he said _yes_, did I say that part?"

"You did," said Stan, who had just remembered he needed to get home. He stuck the key in the ignition and took off from the parking lot, keeping only an ear in the conversation behind him.

"Well, congratulations," Kyle said weakly, unsure of whether to scold at Kenny for tricking someone to go out with him, or to remind him that Kenny wouldn't be getting any during that 'date.'

He chose the latter.

Kenny smiled. "It'll work out, I promise you, Kyle. Besides… I'm Kenny. Everyone wants me."

Much to Stan's relief, no one had made a comment after Kenny's claim. Sure, hearing Kyle go against Kenny would've been more satisfying, but in that scenario Kenny could possibly wind him up into another sick, perverted situation…. No, this way would be much better.

"Enjoy your date tonight," Kenny said once they had arrived at his house.

"How'd you know about that?" Stan and Kyle both asked at the same time.

That answer was easy to answer, though, and all three knew it.

"Let's see," began Kenny, and he did an impersonation of Stan. "_God, Kenny, I'm running out of ideas to take him! Help me, Ken, please, please, please, please, I don't wanna bring him to a place he'll hate!_" Then, turning to Kyle, Kenny changed his mimicking voice. "_Dude, Kenny, Stan's taking me to the arcade! _The_ arcade! Doesn't it bring so many memories? We're going tomorrow, you know, on the last day of school. Ken, I'm so_—"

"We got the point," Kyle muttered bitterly, looking at his feet, his cheeks flushed. Kenny smirked, waved a goodbye, and entered his… _house_.

"I thought that was a _terrible_ impression of me," Stan said with a laugh as he pulled out of the car. "God, I sounded desperate… and I don't think I said 'please' that many times in a row."

Kyle had other things on his mind, however. "You really say that, though?"

"Say what?"

"That you didn't want to take me to a place I hate." Stan shrugged, nodding his head only slightly as he continued looking onto the road. "I don't care if we go somewhere you like, dude. It's not always me, you know."

Stan shrugged again. "Anything you like is something I like, too."

Kyle sighed and relented; there would be no convincing him otherwise.

The trip to Kyle's house had been a silent one. Occasionally Stan let go of the wheel, usually on the straight paths, and inched his free hand toward the space between them, stroking the back of Kyle's hand softly, gently…. Yet both lips were pursed; the excitement of school's end hadn't exactly settled in, yet.

Kyle stepped out of his car in silence; Stan turned off the engine and got out of the car, too.

"I'll be seeing you in fifteen minutes, more or less," said Stan, placing an arm around Kyle. "God, we're pretty much signing ourselves up to bathe in kindergarten pee… sick."

Kyle laughed. "Well," he said as they reached the door, "I'll see you later, then."

He gave a small kiss on the cheek and left. Stan remained motionless for two seconds, letting the feeling linger, before heading home.

**XX**

Sitting in the backseat was something Stan hadn't done in a while, and as he stared out the window he realized how much he had hated it. Sure, if he had been the only member in his family, he might've enjoyed it a little more, but he wasn't; instead, he had to share the space with Shelley, who seemed equally upset with having to travel in the family car.

"Try and have fun, the both of you," snapped Mrs. Marsh, turning around from her envied shotgun position. "Those glares of yours could kill someone, you know."

Both ignored her, allowing the music of the car drown her voice—and that had been another thing Stan disliked. He had no control of the music; he was stuck listening to his parents' music, which was all oldies music (of course). Perhaps the first time he wouldn't have minded, but… he had heard their music so many times it was sickening.

…on that note, listening to his own music thousands of times wouldn't make it sickening. Perhaps it was just opinion.

"Here we are," announced Mr. Marsh, and their car came to a halt. "The Broflovski family should already be inside, so we'd better get going."

"Don't forget your towel!" his mother called, and Stan looked around the car. Sadly, he saw no one except Shelley and his mother, so he let it go. He could've sworn someone else was there, though…. "I swear, Stan, if you leave your towel in the car again—"

"I was ten, mom." But Mrs. Marsh only continued to bicker about it on the way inside the pool. The particular location had both an indoor and an outdoor pool, but the two families had preferred the former. Incidentally it was unusually chilly for a June afternoon, so Stan didn't mind at all.

Stan was more than thrilled to see Kyle's beaming face, and as he hurried away from his mother's ongoing rant, he swept his boyfriend right off his feet.

…tackled, more like.

Mr. Broflovski shook his head disapprovingly before turning to the Marsh family. "Glad you could make it."

"…like old times, Gerald."

Mrs. Marsh shook her head. "So where're the changing rooms?" she asked, and Mrs. Broflovski immediately led her and Shelley away from the rest of the group.

Mr. Broflovski looked uneasily between Stan and Kyle. "Stan, why don't you go change with your dad? The boys and I will catch up with you later."

"Why can't he change at the same time?" challenged Stan. He knew Mr. Broflovski motives, seemingly; he was probably afraid the two would… bang things other than locker doors.

However, he was mistaken. "We've already changed, Stan." And true enough, he looked at the Broflovski, already half naked and attired with swimming shorts.

Stan turned red. "Oh… then I guess I'll be off now." Then, as he approached Kyle, he added in a whisper: "No wonder I felt some abs when I tackled you…."

Stan had finished getting changed twice as fast as his father, for obvious reasons. Mr. Marsh had called to Stan, asking him to wait, but he gave up once he realized Stan would be too eager to listen. Still, he sighed, putting his own clothes into his locker, all before exiting.

Stan and Kyle were already in the pool by then, but at least Ike was with them.

"Oh no Ike!" Kyle called with a foolish grin. "Watch out for the kindergarten pee!"

"I don't see it," Ike said frankly, looking around. "Is it yellow?"

"Clear pee!" Stan piped in, swimming away. "God, it _burns_!"

"…that's probably just the chlorine, Stan." Stan pouted at Ike's sourness, and Ike, in retaliation, splashed both Stan and Kyle with a kick of his feet. "Why, you little…."

Their splash fight thus commenced, splashing pool water, chlorine, yellow pee, and clear pee at each other, the disgusting elements barely crossing their mind as they swam away and attacked, dove under the surface and struck on it, getting the lifeguard pissed off….

"Sorry ma'am," Ike said innocently, which seemed satisfactory enough for the brunette lifeguard. "We won't do it again."

Once she had left, Ike turned to his brother. "I just saved your ass."

"Yeah right," Kyle retorted, clinging onto Stan's arm. "And what exactly can a lifeguard do, anyway? That whistle of hers can't kill… can it?"

"Probably not," Stan muttered, "but I'd be careful in case."

Ike snorted before turning his back, running off before ultimately diving into the pull. "Sorry!" Ike apologized to the lifeguard, and she turned her head yet again.

"Salutary neglect," Kyle muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"That lifeguard… it's like she's practicing salutary neglect. She's not enforcing any of the rules on Ike; she just keeps turning her head away…."

"Dork," concluded Stan, and with that he pushed Kyle into the water once more, diving in after him.

They had only been in the pool for thirty minutes, but it seemed as if they had been there much longer. Not that they were complaining, though, as the splashing fights and miniature races were quite enough. They had even opted to aid Ike in reenacting World War II in the pool (the Pacific Theater), Kyle thoroughly enjoying creaming Stan's 'army' as his nation was slowly claiming victory.

"The Japanese surrender!" Stan called at last, and Kyle climbed off Stan's back.

That had been when Mr. Broflovski called Kyle out of the pool. Kyle looked upon his father sourly, asking if they were leaving, but when his father admitted he only wanted to talk, Kyle reluctantly left.

Stan turned to Ike. "I didn't get him in trouble, did I?"

"Probably not," Ike replied. "Dad gives him talks all the time, so he's used to it by now."

"About what?"

Ike hesitated. "Well… about you, actually." Stan looked at Ike blankly, almost forgetting to tread the water. Once he remembered he was still in the deep end, he asked Ike to clarify. "I'm sure you remember that dad's… not so keen with your relationship."

"Why?" Stan asked, both angry and curious. "I mean, your mom accepts us. Your mom, of all people! She didn't create an MAG organization, for crying out loud!"

"You don't get it, though," Ike reasoned, though it took a while before Ike could properly get Stan's attention again. "Listen, Stan, my mom—_listen_!—my mom doesn't have a last name she wants to pass on! _That's_ why she isn't pissed like my dad is."

Stan calmed down and blinked. "…his last name?"

"Sure, Stan, you've never heard of anything like that before? Dad wants someone to continue his family's 'legacy,' someone who'll pass down the Broflovski family. As far as truth goes, Kyle's his only son. I'm just adopted."

"But when you marry, you'll have the Broflovski name too, won't you?"

Ike shrugs. "It's not the same, I guess. Besides, hypothetically, if I turned gay—which I won't—but if I did, I'm sure dad would be even angrier… having to deal with both Kyle _and_ myself."

Stan sighed. "I guess, dude…. I still don't really—"

Kyle returned.

"Hey, dude!" Stan said with a smile, wrapping his arms around their new guest.

Kyle smiled. "Things will be better now, Stan. Don't worry."

**XX**

"…no dinner then?"

"I'm fine… thanks." Stan smiled sheepishly at his sister, who was busy setting the plates on the dining table. He was only watching her, as his hands were occupied with tying a red tie around his neck. "Shelley, can you help me with this?"

He recoiled for a moment, noticing the plates still in her hand, afraid she might toss one at him—but she merely set them down and took the tie from his hands.

"What's up with guys nowadays," Shelley muttered under his breath, wrapping it around his neck. "They wear ties more than girls do, yet they never seem to know how to put them on themselves."

Stan was tempted to make a smart comeback, such as "but I never wear them anyway, so there's my excuse," but he was too scared to do it—after all, a wrong move and Shelley could strangle him.

But perhaps he was antagonizing his sister too much. After all, she _did_ assist in giving Stan the thing that had made his life so blissful. He watched her serenely as she fitted the tie, and as she tightened it Stan grew scared she might actually tighten it too much….

And then she stepped away, nodding at her work.

"I thought you were going to the arcade, only?" Shelley asked, frowning. "You have to dress up for that?"

Stan turned red. "How'd you find out about that?"

Shelley smiled. "On one of my midnight trips to the kitchen. I passed by your room—you talk _loud_, not to mention to no one in particular." She paused, mimicking her brother's voice. "_Oh, god, what am I gonna do at the arcades! He's probably going to find it _so_ boring!_"

"Shut up," whined Stan, turning away. "I do _not_ sound like that." He paused, avoiding the victorious smile on Shelley's face. "And obviously then, you weren't eavesdropping when I said I was gonna take Kyle to a surprise dinner."

Shelley's face lit up. "Ah… I see. That explains the getup, then." She patted her brother on the shoulder. "Have fun, then."

"Thanks." And with that, he was out the door.

The drive to Kyle's house was silent, yet that particular silence was much too noisy for him. It was like he could feel his heart beating—but why was that so? It wasn't like this was to be their first date… so, why was he so nervous?

He arrived at Kyle's house without difficulty. He inhaled a deep breath, stepped out of his car, and walked to the door.

The door opened before he could ring the doorbell—as always was the case.

"How do you _always_ know I'm here?" Stan asked incredulously, gaping at the rather amused Ike.

"You haven't figured it out yet?" Ike replied, looking rather pleased.

"No, dude!"

Ike smirked. "I'll let you figure it out for yourself, then."

"Stan!" Kyle called out from upstairs, and he immediately took Stan into a suffocating hug. "I like what I'm seeing… but what's with the shirt?"

"What, this?" and Stan looked at the red tie and blue dress shirt he had on. "Well… I figured I'd dress for the occasion."

"It's only the arcade," Kyle replied, and he led Stan out the door. "Later, Ike, hope you feel better!"

"Ike was sick?" Stan asked, frowning as the two heard the front door shut behind them. "Oh, that's right…."

"He insisted he was well enough to go swimming, though," said Kyle. "It took a while to convince my mom, but in the end he was allowed to go. But now he's feeling a little queasy again, though I don't know if he's faking it, or what."

"Must've been the kindergarten pee," said Stan, and Kyle laughed. "After you," he added, opening the door for Kyle.

Two minutes and the two were off.

"Out of curiosity," began Stan, "how _does_ Ike know I'm at your door?"

"What'd you mean?"

"Like… he always opens the door before I can ring the doorbell. It's like he can see through the door or something."

Kyle laughed. "Well… not exactly looking _through_ the door, dude. But he _is_ keeping a look out for you through the living room window."

"Really?" Stan asked, and Kyle nodded.

"He keeps a lookout for me, especially when I'm not ready yet. He likes looking through that window, though… sorta how he chanced upon us that one night…."

"First kiss," Stan mumbled. He turned red, but it went unnoticed.

"Uh, Stan…?"

"Hm?"

"The arcade's that way." Kyle pointed behind them, but Stan seemed not to notice. "Where're we going? _Stan_?"

"Just somewhere…."

Stan left it at that.

**XX**

"I can't believe you," Kyle said with a laugh, shaking his head as he exited the restaurant. "I assume _that's_ why you dressed up?"

Stan nodded. "I was afraid I'd have to ruin the surprise, in case you didn't dress up very well… but I figured your black polo was good enough."

Kyle smiled, leaning into Stan as they walked away. The atmosphere had been magnificent, the food delicious…. It had been quite the night, and Stan was happy that Kyle looked quite satisfied.

"I feel bloated though," Kyle said sadly, patting his stomach. "Keep taking me to dates like me and you're gonna be dating Cartman."

"You'll work it out," said Stan, opening the door on Kyle's side once more. "And now, to the cafeteria!"

"Cafeteria?" Kyle asked with a frown, stepping inside the car.

"Er… arcade… sorry. I've got no idea where I got cafeteria from." Kyle laughed, leaning against the window as Stan started the car.

"Stan…?" The boy glanced at Kyle, who was still leaning against the window.

"Yeah, dude?"

"You think we'll… you think we'll have a future?"

Stan blinked, making a turn on the road. "Future?"

"Yeah, like… is there a future for us?"

"Of course!" Stan said, taking another glance at Kyle. "I mean, if you're willing to try, then of course we can have one… but why are you asking me?"

Kyle sighed, still staring out the window. "Just thinking about what my dad was saying. That's all." He sighed. "I mean, I convinced my dad that what I'm doing won't change, that I'll never leave you just because you're not a girl. But… I feel like I'm disappointing him.

"I told them that being with Stan makes me happy, and that he should be happy that I'm happy, like most fathers. Yet I felt bad, you know? I understand his reasoning, but… it's what I want. But I've ruined his dreams, too."

He looked to Stan, trying to find an answer, but Stan had none. Everything the boy had would make him sound self-centered; supporting Kyle's decision would benefit him, and somehow Stan knew Kyle was trying to sympathize with his father.

"Things will work out," said Stan slowly, heaving a sigh. "I understand what you're trying to say, and I get it. But it's just… seeing you unhappy like this… especially now."

"Sorry…."

Stan tried to smile. "You think just for tonight, you could forget about it for a while? Just relax and smile like you usually do… for me?"

And just like that, with the addition of the last two words, Kyle's face twisted into a smile. Stan smiled, relieved, yet he didn't know what had caused Kyle to comply with his request. He didn't care either, not at that moment—he was just happy to see Kyle's smile.

"I think that's a change I can live with," Kyle said quietly. "For once, we're doing something because of _you_."

Stan said nothing.  
The moments they'd share from here on out would surely do the talking for him.

* * *

_If you want to leave a review, you may have to submit an anonymous review, depending if you've previously reviewed this or not. However, you're also free to email me or leave a private message._

_-Zak_


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